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Life  and  Letters 


Brooke   Foss  Westcott 

D.D.,   D.C.L. 

Sometime  Bishop  of  Durham 

BY    HIS    SON 



VOL.  I 



All  right*  reserved 


"  To  make  of  life  one  harmonious  whole,  to  realise  the 
invisible,  to  anticipate  the  transfiguring  majesty  of  the  Divine 
Presence,  is  all  that  is  worth  living  for." — B.  F.  W. 

First  Edition  March  1903. 
Reprinted  April  and  October  1903. 


SEP      6  1985 











D.    D.    D. 

A.  S.,  MCMIII. 


Haec  tibi  iure  au-o  magm  monumenta  Parentis 

Maiori  natu,  frater,  amore  pari. 
Siquid  inest  dignum,  laetabere  ;  siquid  ineptttin, 

Non  mihi  tu  censor  sect,  scio,  frater  eris. 
Sets  bene  quam  duri  fnerit  res  ilia  laboris, 

Quae  melius  per  te  suscipienda  ftiit. 
Tu  dux,  tu  nobis  renovati  nominis l  heres, 

Agminis  et  nostri  signifer  unus  eras. 
Scribendo  sed  enim  spatitim,  tibi  sorte  negatum, 

Importuna  minus  fata  dedere  mihi: 
Et  leviiis  visum  est  infabrius  arma  tulisse 

Quam  Patre  pro  tanto  nil  voluisse  pati. 
lamqtie  opus  exactum  est  quod,  te  suadente,  subivi . 

Accipe :  iudicio  stetque  cadatque  tuo. 
Lectorum  haud  dubia  est,  rear,  indulgentia  ;  nato 

Quod  frater  fratri  tu  dabis,  ilia  dabit. 
Nee  petimus  latides  :  magnam  depingere  vitam 

Ingenio  fateor  grandius  esse  meo. 
Hoc  erat  in  votis,  uty  nos  quod  amavimus,  illud 

Serus  in  externis  continuaret  amor. 
Sat  mihi  si  Patris  dilecta  resurgat  imago 

Qualis  erat  forma,  lumine,  fronte,  gradu. 
Sat  mihi  si,  quali  vivus,  Pater  ore  loqtiatur, 

Perque  meas  nubes  fulgeat  igne  suo. 

i  See  p.  3. 

*  For  these  verses  and  for  the  inscription  on  the  preceding  page  I  am  indebted  to 
friend  of  my  Father.— A.  W. 



MY  brother  kindly  allows  me  to  say  a  few  words  by 
way  of  preface  to  the  Life  which  he  has  written  as  a 
tribute  to  a  sacred  memory.  This  I  am  very  glad  to 
do  on  many  accounts.  It  enables  me  to  voice  the 
gratitude  of  my  brothers  and  sisters  to  him  for  under 
taking  and  carrying  out  what  must  always  be  a  diffi 
cult,  though  it  be  a  congenial  task,  the  compiling  of 
the  memoirs  of  a  father.  It  also  enables  me  to  ex 
plain  why  I  did  not  take  this  duty  on  myself.  It 
might  have  seemed  to  belong  to  me  naturally  as  the 
eldest  son,  and  so  I  could  not  help  feeling.  But  my 
brother  had  comparative  leisure,  and  I  had  none  ;  he 
had  had  experience  in  the  paths  of  letters,  and  I 
had  not ;  so  he  gladly  undertook  work  which  to  me 
would  have  surely  proved  a  very  serious  burden,  even 
had  I  been  able  to  achieve  it.  And  there  is  in  it  a 
certain  fitness.  The  Lives  of  two  of  my  father's  dearest 
friends  have  been  written  by  the  "  Arthurs "  of  their 
families,  and  now  our  "  Arthur  "  has  rendered  a  similar 
VOL.  i  A  2 


filial    service   to   the    memory  of  him    who    was   their 
comrade  in  old  days. 

How  his  work  will  appear  to  other  readers  it  is 
hard  for  me  to  tell.  Whatever  is  written  of  our  father 
must  be  seen  by  his  children  through  a  halo  of  hero- 
worship.  I  cannot  but  believe,  however,  that  these  few 
chapters,  so  simple  and  so  direct,  will  convey  a  worthy 
impression  even  to  those  who  did  not  know  my  father 
personally.  About  his  earlier  days  he  was  very  reticent. 
And  so  it  has  come  about  that  we  who  knew  him  best 
have  gathered  fresh  ideas  of  him  whom  we  so  revere 
from  such  records  as  were  found  when  he  had  gone 
from  us.  For  instance,  those  who  met  the  teacher  in 
after  years  would  never  have  guessed  he  had  passed 
through  a  struggle  of  grievous  doubt — his  faith  was  so 
serene,  so  obviously  unshaken.  We  know  now  it  was 
not  always  so,  as  these  pages  will  disclose  to  those 
who  care  to  read.  And  even  our  conceptions  of 
the  oneness  of  that  life  have  been  heightened  and 
enhanced  by  what  my  brother  has  found  and  brought 
to  light. 

Of  the  work  of  the  textual  critic  others  must  judge  ; 
of  the  work  of  the  theologian,  the  teacher,  or  the 
preacher  it  is  hardly  for  his  children  to  speak.  What 
we  treasure  above  all  is  the  unspeakable  heritage  of  a 
life  which  was  daily  lived  before  our  eyes  upon  the 
loftiest  plane  of  Christian  principle.  This  it  is  (I  hope 
and  believe)  which  my  brother's  careful  work  of 
editing  and  selecting  and  explaining  will  tend  to 
bring  into  prominence.  His  work  will  fall  short  of 


success  if  it  does  not  achieve  this  result.  But  I  truly 
think  it  will.  Devout  people  on  the  small  scale  are 
(thank  God !)  common  enough.  The  life  of  every 
society  is  freshened  and  beautified  by  their  simple 
faith  and  love.  But  my  father's  was  a  devotion  on 
what  may  be  truthfully  called  the  very  grandest  scale. 
As  such  it  was  exposed  to  a  certain  misconstruction. 
"  Unsound  "  or  "  shadowy  "  or  "  mystical  "  were  terms 
often  applied  to  him.  There  were  even  who  doubted, 
through  misunderstanding  of  the  man,  his  fidelity  to 
the  very  foundations  of  the  Faith.  But  to  all  who 
came  near  to  him  the  irresistible  truth  was  cer 
tainly  brought  home,  that  here  was  a  servant  of 
Christ  who  served  Him  every  day  and  all  the  day. 
He  would  often  say  of  himself  that  there  was  inborn 
in  him  a  spirit  of  "  puritanism."  By  this  he  meant,  of 
course,  that  the  sense  of  life's  intense  seriousness  was 
always  with  him.  And  so  it  was.  Holidays  he  could 
hardly  take ;  he  found  no  joy  in  them,  and  more 
especially  so  in  later  years.  Expenditure  on  self  was 
all  but  impossible.  Sometimes  the  keen  delight  he  took 
in  the  realisation  of  the  fulness  of  family  life  would 
lead  him  to  unbend  ;  yet  seldom  can  one  have  lived 
who  kept  the  bow  of  duty  so  assiduously  strung.  This 
intense  earnestness  was  a  help  to  very  many  while  he 
lived  ;  and  so  it  should  be  still,  and  doubtlessly  it  will 
be.  I  think  also  my  brother  has  gone  the  very 
nearest  way  to  bring  this  thing  about.  Without  judg 
ment  or  criticism,  without  word  of  praise  or  blame,  he 
has  faithfully  tried  to  bring  before  the  reader  the 


sketch  of  a  striking  life.  It  will  appeal  to  whom  it 
will  appeal !  But  I  think  they  will  not  be  few.  At 
least  it  is  an  offering  (in  which  we  all  would  share)  of 
real  sonly  devotion  to  the  memory  of  a  father  who  was 
worshipped  by  his  children  beyond  the  common. 


2yd January  1903. 


As  my  brother  has  explained  the  circumstances  which 
caused  the  writing  of  this  work  to  devolve  on  me,  and 
has  set  forth  the  general  character  of  my  work,  it 
only  remains  for  me  to  express  our  gratitude  to  the 
many  friends  who  have  furthered  our  endeavour  by 
their  generous  assistance.  Some  we  would  thank  for 
the  loan  of  letters  written  by  my  father,  and  for  per 
mission  to  make  use  of  the  same  ;  others  for  contri 
buting  valuable  personal  reminiscences.  I  mention  no 
names,  knowing  that  the  help  of  all,  whatever  its 
amount,  was  in  each  case  offered  in  the  simple  desire 
to  do  honour  to  the  memory  of  one  whom  they  loved. 
I  have  throughout  been  conscious  that  the  advice  given 
to  me  by  my  father  when  I  was  a  boy  l  is  as  appropriate 
now  as  then,  but  much  of  the  putty  which  I  have  em 
ployed  in  this  work  has,  I  hope,  been  honest  putty, 
serving  a  proper  office  in  binding  together  the  more 
solid  matter  supplied  by  others.  It  is  perhaps  unfor 
tunate  that  the  conventions  of  the  press  have  required 
that  the  putty  should  be  displayed  in  the  larger  type, 

1  Vol.  i.  p.  344. 


whereas  the  sound  material  furnished  by  my  father  and 
his  friends  is  relegated  for  the  most  part  to  the  smaller 
character ;  but  I  do  not  hold  myself  responsible  for 
that  arrangement,  and  the  judicious  reader,  after  this 
fair  warning,  has  the  remedy  in  his  own  hands.  It  is 
a  matter  for  congratulation  that  the  smaller  type 
portion  of  this  work  is  so  large,  and  it  has  been 
my  aim,  as  far  as  possible,  to  let  my  father  reveal 

I  am  also  deeply  conscious  of  the  generous  trust 
reposed  in  me  by  the  other  members  of  the  family, 
especially  by  my  elder  brother,  who,  though  far  more 
competent  than  myself  to  discharge  this  filial  duty,  has 
fully  acquiesced  in  his  enforced  withdrawal  from  the 
congenial  task,  and  has  contented  himself  with  the 
humbler  part  of  reading  the  proof  and  correcting 
obvious  errors,  leaving  me,  at  what  cost  I  know  not, 
to  do  my  work  in  my  own  way.  I  am  also  greatly 
indebted  to  Miss  Cordeux  for  similar  aid. 

It  seems  right  that  I  should  add  that,  in  reading 
through  many  thousands  of  letters  written  to  my 
father  (the  rapid  perusal  of  which,  I  cannot  but  remark, 
has  wonderfully  illustrated  the  reverent  esteem  in  which 
so  many  held  him),  I  have  sometimes  found  a  copy  of 
his  reply  in  his  own  or  some  other  familiar  handwriting. 
Such  letters  I  have  occasionally  used. 

Conversion  of  St.  Paul,  1903. 




Birth  and  parentage  —  Some  forefathers  —  School-days — His  schoolboy 
Diary — Reminiscences  of  school  friends — His  tribute  to  his  Master — 
Letters  (1838-1844)  .  .  .  Page  I 



First  impressions — Manner  of  life — First  successes — Extracts  from  Diary — 
The  Philological  Society — Visit  of  the  Queen  and  Prince  Albert — 
Sunday  School — More  extracts  from  Diary — Triposes — Described  by 
a  contemporary — Letters  (1845-1848)  .  .  34 



Reading  party  in  Wales — Private  pupils — Extracts  from  Diary — First  visit 

to  the  Continent— Norrisian  Essay— Ordination— Temporary  work  at 

Harrow — Candidature  for  Jersey  College  —  Testimonials — Poetry — 

Letters  (1848-1852)    .  .  .104 





School  duties — Marriage — Tour  in  South  of  France — History  of  the  Canon 
of  the  New  Testament  and  other  literary  work — Visit  to  Dresden — Im 
pressions  of  pictures — Reminiscences  by  Harrow  pupils — The  spirit 
of  his  work — Cambridge  "  Protest" — Cambridge  sermons  and  literary 
work  —  Visit  to  "the  home  of  his  ancestors"  —  Agitation  about 
Essays  and  Reviews — Visit  to  Oxford — The  Hulsean  Professorship — 
Letters  ......  Page  173 


HARROW  (continued} 

Visit  to  Tintern — The  Bible  in  the  Church — The  Norrisian  Professorship — 
Visit  to  Bishop  Prince  Lee — The  Gospel  of  the  Resurrection — La  Salette 
— School  teaching  of  Natural  Science — Literary  Essays — History  of  the 
English  Bible— The  Coenobium — Farewell  to  Harrow — The  Head 
master's  impressions — Letters  ....  243 



First  impressions  and  sermons — Journey  to  Gersau — Essays  on  Cathedral 
Work  —  Direction  of  theological  students  —  Nave  services  —  Some 
favourite  novels — Ecclesiastical  Courts  Commission — Some  animal 
friends — Lecture  on  Monastic  Life — Dictionary  of  Christian  Anti 
quities  and  Origen — With  his  children — Resignation  of  canonry —  The 
Revelation  of  the  Father — Letters  .  .  .  .  301 


A    MINSTER    MEMORY  .  .  350 

(Contributed  by  Precentor  Phillips) 




Elected  to  Regius  Professorship— His  Lectures — The  Religious  Office  of  the 
Universities — The  Preliminary  Examination  of  candidates  for  Holy 
Orders — The  Clergy  Training  School — The  Cambridge  University 
Church  Society  and  Delhi  Mission — The  Eranus — The  New  Testa 
ment  Revision — The  Greek  Testament — Governor  of  Harrow  School — 
Fellow  of  King's  College — His  work  on  behalf  of  University  Extension 
— The  Cambridge  Memorial  on  Church  Reform — His  portrait  for  the 
University — Closing  testimonies — Letters  .  .  Page  366 



Photogravure  Portrait.     From  a  Photograph  by  Goshawk, 

Harrow,  1859  .  .  .  .        Frontispiece 

Ludlow  Church.  From  a  Pencil  Sketch  by  B.  F.  Westcott 

(June  17,  1845)  -  i? 

View  from  No.  7  Jesus  Lane.  From  a  Pencil  Sketch  by 

B.  F.  Westcott  .  .  .  .  -34 

The  Great  Court,  Trinity  College.     From  a  Pencil  Sketch 

by  B.  F.  Westcott  (August  8,  1846)  .  .          44 

Peterborough  Cathedral,  from  South-East.     From  a  Pencil 

Sketch  by  B.  F.  Westcott  (Sept.  24,  1847)  .  .        in 

South -West  Spire   of  Peterborough  Cathedral.     From  a 

Sketch  by  Canon  Westcott  .  .  .  .318 

Gateway  at   Cambridge.     From   a   Sketch   by   Professor 

Westcott     .  .  .  .  .  .425 



BROOKE  Foss  WESTCOTT  was  born  in  Birmingham 
on  the  1 2th  January  1825,  and  was  baptized  in  St. 
Philip's  Church  on  February  the  7th.  His  father, 
Frederick  Brooke  Westcott,  was  a  man  of  a  retiring 
disposition,  and  lived  for  the  most  part  a  quiet  home 
life,  being  much  devoted  to  scientific  pursuits.  He  was 
an  ardent  geologist,  but  his  more  especial  study  was 
botany.  He  was  for  some  years  Hon.  Secretary  of 
the  Birmingham  Horticultural  Society,  and  Lecturer 
on  Botany  and  Vegetable  Physiology  at  Sydenham 
College  Medical  School,  Birmingham.  He  was  also 
joint  author  with  Mr.  G.  B.  Knowles  of  The  Floral 
Cabinet  and  Magazine  of  Exotic  Botany,  a  work  in  three 
quarto  volumes,  which  I  have  seen  described  as  valuable 
and  scarce.  Mr.  F.  B.  Westcott  married  Sarah,  daughter 
of  Mr.  William  Armitage,  a  much  respected  Birmingham 
manufacturer.  The  future  bishop  was  their  only  surviv 
ing  son. 

My  father  was  named  after  his  grandfather,  Brooke 
Foss    Westcott,    concerning   whom    there    is    little   on 
record,  save  that  he  incurred  his  parents'  displeasure  by 
VOL.  I  B 


insisting  on  entering  the  army.  The  fact  of  his  being  an 
only  son  led  his  parents  to  oppose  his  military  ardour. 
In  punishment  for  this  offence  his  mother  left  him 
£500  only,  on  condition  that  he  did  "not  come  within 
twenty  miles  of  London  within  one  calendar  month 
after"  her  decease.  His  mother's  spinster  sister,  how 
ever,  treated  the  soldier  with  greater  generosity.  Brooke 
Foss  Westcott,  on  his  retirement  from  the  army,  resided 
at  Ludlow,  and  he  and  his  wife  are  buried  in  Bromfield 
Churchyard.  This  Captain  Westcott  had  an  only  sister, 
who  married  a  French  count.  The  sole  issue  of  this 
marriage  was  a  daughter,  Celestine  de  Varreux,  by  whose 
request  the  cross  of  St.  Louis  bestowed  on  her  father  by 
the  "  martyred  king  "  (Louis  XVI.)  was  ultimately  for 
warded  to  my  mother,  and  is  now  a  treasured  heirloom. 

A  more  interesting  personage  was  my  father's  great 
grandfather,  Foss  Westcott,  who  was  a  member  of 
the  Honourable  East  India  Company's  Madras  estab 
lishment  during  the  years  1741-57.  He  appears  to  have 
been  a  man  of  considerable  ability  and  independence  of 
character.  In  1749  he  stood  alone  in  objecting  to  the 
Tanjore  expedition  in  favour  of  Sahaji  Maharaja,  and 
has  recorded  his  autograph  disapproval  in  the  Consulta 
tions  Book  of  the  Government  of  Fort  St.  David  in  the 
following  terms  : — 

I  Dissent  from  the  above  Expedition,  Because  I  am  of 
Opinion  that  it  is  repugnant  to  my  Hon'ble  Masters'  Interest. 


Herein,  I  take  it,  he  showed  his  superior  know 
ledge  of  affairs.  In  the  same  year  he  was  appointed 
one  of  the  two  Commissaries  to  represent  the  Com 
pany  in  the  treaty  for  the  evacuation  of  the  fort  and 
town  of  Madras  by  the  French.  On  this  occasion  he 
met  in  council  the  famous  Frenchman  Dupleix.  Two 


years  later  he  was  sent  out  on  an  annexation  expedi 
tion  pure  and  simple,  being  entrusted  with  "  some 
small  colours  to  hoist  occasionally,"  whenever  he  could 
conveniently  do  so,  to  the  exclusion  of  the  French, 
and  without  the  Nabob  "  taking  any  umbrage  at  it." 
This  delicate  service  he  executed  with  zeal  and  fidelity. 
For  the  next  year  or  two,  amid  constant  threatenings 
of  French  and  "  Morattas,"  he  laboured  at  his  invest 
ments,  and  "  with  all  submission  begged  leave  to  differ  " 
from  the  Council  of  Fort  St.  George  on  divers  matters  ; 
nor  was  he  a  whit  dismayed  at  the  prospect  of  a  siege, 
when  the  best  part  of  his  garrison  consisted  of  "  about 
thirteen  Europeans,  all  foreigners  and  deserters,  amongst 
whom  there  is  not  one  capable  of  levelling  a  gun  or 
throwing  a  shell."  On  the  plea  of  ill -health  and 
urgent  private  affairs,  he  said  farewell  to  India  in  1757. 

On  arriving  in  England,  Foss  Westcott  assumed,  no 
doubt  for  sufficient  reasons,  a  coat  of  arms  appertaining 
to  the  Devonshire  "  Westcotts  "  or  "  Westcotes."  He 
adopted,  however,  a  slight  difference,  and  invented  for 
himself  a  new  motto  :  Renovato  Nomine.  Herein  we 
see  that  he  was  proud  of  having  raised  up  an  old 
family  to  a  position  of  comparative  wealth  and  pros 
perity.  My  father  was  the  sole  eponymous  descendant 
of  this  Indian  "  nabob,"  and  in  reference  to  the  new 
family  motto,  I  have  known  him  to  remark  playfully, 
as  he  surveyed  his  seven  sons,  that  he  had  not  been 
unfaithful  thereto. 

Foss  Westcott  married  twice.  From  his  first  wife, 
Anne  Pye,  whom  he  married  in  Madras,1  was  descended 
George  Foss  Westcott,  who  at  one  time  commanded 
a  company  of  the  77th  Foot  in  India,  and  served  in 

1  Mrs.  Ann  Wescott  (sic)  is  buried  in  Madras,  as  is  also  her  son  George 
Westcott  of  the  Madras  Civil  Service.  f 


the  Peninsula  and  at  the  battle  of  Waterloo.  Major 
Westcott,  as  we  have  usually  called  this  distant  cousin 
of  ours,  was  a  man  of  very  strong  religious  feeling. 
This  is  of  interest,  because  my  father's  immediate 
ancestry  and  home  surroundings  do  not  satisfactorily 
account  for  his  intensely  religious  temperament,  which 
must  have  been  in  some  degree  inherited.  Writing  to 
my  grandfather  in  1848,  Major  Westcott  says  :  "  I  am 
interested  in  my  young  cousin's  success.  .  .  .  But  what 
are  all  the  attainments  the  human  intellect  can  arrive 
at,  compared  with  the  one  thing  needful  ?  I  pray  the 
Lord  that  you  may  each  and  all  have  but  this  one 
object  in  view.  ...  I  do  hope  my  young  cousin's  fine 
and  gifted  intellect  is  turned  to  the  study  of  Scripture." 
Surely  the  good  old  soldier's  prayers  were  not  in  vain. 
His  gifted  young  cousin  did  indeed  search  the  Scriptures, 
and  by  prayerful  study  was  enabled  to  interpret  them 
for  his  own  and  others'  needs  in  no  ordinary  measure. 

Foss  Westcott's  second  wife,  from  whom  we  are 
descended,  was  Mary  Gallant,  whose  mother's  maiden 
name  had  been  Martha  Brooke.  With  this  lady  one 
line  of  the  Brooke  family  expired,  and  my  grandfather 
had  the  satisfaction  of  being  demonstrated  to  be  one  of 
the  four  co-heirs  of  a  Joseph  Brooke,  who  is  said  to 
have  distinguished  himself  on  the  Royalist  side  in  the 
Civil  War.  Such  is  the  origin  of  the  name  Brooke  in 
our  family.  It  has  been  borne  amongst  us  for  five 
generations  now.  Whence  the  name  Foss  is  derived 
is  a  matter  that  no  one  yet  appears  to  have  considered. 

Foss  Westcott  was  buried  at  Cobham  in  Kent. 
His  hatchment  was  placed  over  the  chancel  arch,  and 
there  are  mural  tablets  in  the  church,  erected  in  memory 
of  him  and  his  first  wife. 

My  father's  first  tutor  was  the  Rev.  Theodore  Short, 


curate  of  Erdington,  a  village  near  Birmingham,  in 
which  his  earliest  years  were  spent.  When  my  father 
last  visited  Erdington  he  lamented  that  almost  all  the 
landmarks  of  his  childhood's  memory  had  disappeared. 
Though  the  house  in  which  he  lived  has  been  de 
molished,  his  memory  is  still  cherished  in  the  family 
of  his  nurse  Jemima  Allen  (Mrs.  Barlow),  "  who  taught 
the  future  bishop  his  letters  and  first  little  words."1 
In  1837,  when  he  was  twelve  years  old,  he  began  to 
attend  King  Edward  VI.'s  School  in  Birmingham.  At 
the  age  of  fourteen  he  had  reached  the  highest  form  in 
the  school,  and  was  under  the  immediate  care  of  the 
headmaster,  Mr.  Prince  Lee,  afterwards  the  first  Bishop 
of  Manchester.  Mr.  Lee  thus  reports  of  him  in  that  year 
(1839):  "Very  industrious,  persevering,  and  attentive. 
General  reading  very  good.  Deserves  much  praise." 
In  his  first  Latin  dictionary  my  father  has  preserved 
a  record  of  his  school,  and  indeed  of  his  whole  career  ; 
for  the  first  entry  is  "Easter,  1837,  Mr.  Gedge's,  ist," 
and  the  last  is  "  Durham,  1889." 

In  his  early  boyhood  the  young  Westcott  led  a 
somewhat  lonely  life.  His  only  sister  was  twelve  years 
younger  than  himself.  He  himself,  in  his  Cambridge 
days,  remarked  on  this  loneliness  :  "  I  had  no  elder 
brother  to  obey  ;  no  younger  brother  to  please.  I  had 
no  companions,  no  friends  ;  and  though  I  thankfully 
acknowledge  that  thus  I  avoided  many  dangers  and 
temptations,  yet  consequently  I  was  as  proud  and  over 
bearing  as  a  little  fellow  well  could  be,  and  many  a 
struggle  it  costs  me  even  now  to  gain  that  temper 
which  is  best  learnt  by  the  self-denials  of  home."  But 
for  all  that  he  is  described  by  one2  who  occasionally 

1  Erdington  Parish  Magazine,  August  1901. 
2  Mr.  W.  Tait,  of  Bromley,  Kent. 


met  him  in  his  Christmas  holidays  spent  at  Ashby-de- 
la-Zouch  as  being  a  high-spirited  and  enterprising  boy, 
who  manufactured  fireworks  wherewith  to  startle  his 
young  girl  cousins,  and  delighted  in  firing  off  an  elderly 
pistol  with  the  same  intent. 

The  following  reminiscences  of  my  father's  boyhood 
are  supplied  by  various  of  his  school  contemporaries  :l — 

"  Young  Westcott "  was  "  a  shy,  nervous,  thoughtful 
boy  from  the  first,"  "seldom,  if  ever,  joining  in  any  games." 
He  had  a  "  sweet,  patient,  eager  face  " ;  "  an  intensity 
and  keenness  of  look  " ;  "a  habit  of  shading  his  eyes 
with  one  hand  while  he  thought "  ;  "a  quick  and  eager 
walk,  with  head  bent  forward  ;  his  smile,  wonderfully 
winning  then,  as  now";  was  "devoted  to  work,  and,  in 
consequence,  once  fainted  in  school."  He  was  also 
noted  for  the  "  authoritative  decision  "  of  his  answers 
in  class  ;  and  for  his  conversation  out  of  school  about 
things  "which  very  few  schoolboys  talk  about — -points 
of  theology,  problems  of  morality,  and  the  ethics  of 
politics."  It  was  often  his  duty  to  take  the  "  Absence 
Book  "  round  to  the  different  masters,  and  Mr.  Gedge 
(the  second  master)  would  take  the  opportunity  of 
asking  the  boy's  opinion  on  some  passages  in  the  Greek 
play  or  Herodotus  which  his  own  class  was  reading. 
Westcott  was  also  proficient  in  drawing,  and  his 
"beautiful,  finely-outlined  sketches"  are  still  remembered. 

His  younger  schoolfellows  regarded  him  with  a 
certain  awe  as  one  altogether  above  themselves,  and 
his  influence  over  them  was  as  good  as  it  was  great. 
Thus,  one  writes  :  "  One  of  the  chief  features  of  his 
school  life  was  his  reverence.  To  see  his  pained  face 
when  any  wrong  or  rash  word  was  spoken  was  a  lesson." 

1  They  were  collected  by  a  writer  in  The  Rock  from  Edgbastonia  (April 


And  another :  "  The  beauty  of  his  character  shone  out 
from  him,  and  one  felt  his  moral  goodness  in  his 
presence."  And  a  third  :  u  An  atmosphere  of  light 
and  purity  surrounded  him,  and  his  smile  and  kindness 
and  courtesy,  which  was  real  and  constant  to  any  small 
boy  who  had  to  deal  with  him,  only  made  us  feel  that 
it  would  be  unbearable  to  rouse  his  anger  or  even  dis 

As  a  boy  my  father  took  the  keenest  interest  in  the 
Chartist  movement,  and  the  effect  then  produced  upon 
his  youthful  imagination  by  the  popular  presentation 
of  the  sufferings  of  the  masses  never  faded.  His  diary 
shows  how  he  deserted  his  meals  to  be  present  at 
various  stirring  scenes,  and  in  particular  to  listen  to 
the  oratory  of  "  the  great  agitator,"  presumably  Feargus 
O'Connor  himself.  He  would  often  in  later  years 
speak  of  these  early  impressions,  which  served  in  no 
small  degree  to  keep  alive  his  intense  hatred  of  every 
form  of  injustice  and  oppression.  He  even  later 
disapproved  of  his  father's  fishing  excursions,  because 
his  sympathies  were  so  entirely  on  the  side  of  the  fish. 
On  one  occasion,  being  then  a  little  boy,  he  was  carry 
ing  the  fish-basket,  when  his  father  put  a  live  fish  into 
it,  and  late  in  life  he  used  to  declare  that  he  could  still 
feel  the  struggles  of  that  fish  against  his  back. 

While  still  a  schoolboy  Westcott  became  acquainted 
with  his  future  wife.  The  story  of  their  first  acqaint- 
ance  as  related  by  my  mother  is  somewhat  to  this 
effect : — One  day  as  he  (i.e.  my  father)  was  coming 
home  from  school  he  saw  a  little  boy  being  knocked 
about  by  a  big  street  boy.  Although  the  big  boy  was 
several  sizes  larger  than  himself,  he  immediately  flew 
to  the  rescue  of  the  little  boy,  and  by  the  vigour  of  his 
onslaught  altogether  routed  the  bully  and  delivered  the 


little  fellow.  In  gratitude  to  his  champion  the  liberated 
lad,  whose  name  was  Thomas  Middlemore  Whittard,1 
took  him  to  his  home  and  introduced  him  to  his  people. 
My  mother,  whose  name  was  Sarah  Louisa  Whittard, 
was  the  eldest  of  three  sisters.2  She  afterwards,  at  the 
time  of  her  confirmation,  at  my  father's  request,  took 
the  name  of  Mary  in  addition.  During  the  year  1842 
my  father,  being  then  seventeen  years  old,  kept  a  diary, 
in  which  there  is  frequent  mention  of  my  mother  under 
the  symbol  <l>.3  The  following  are  some  extracts  from 
this  his  earliest  diary  :— 

6th  January  1842. — At  home  all  day.  Began  Italian. 
Quite  the  finest  modern  language. 

\$th  February  (Sunday). — Mr.  Lee  advances  doctrine  of 
Baptismal  Regeneration. 

i8M  March. — Mr.  Lee  rants  against  everybody,  and  then 
praises  them.  Fie,  sir,  fie  ! 

T-gth  April — This  day  I  am  seized  with  a  poetic  fit,  and 
at  one  sitting  write  130  English  verses  on  the  Isles  of  Peace ! 
Q  catches  me  in  the  middle ! 

1  Tth  May. — Plan  our  magazine. 

2$rd  May. —  Great  discussion  with  Evans  about  our 
magazine.  Get  the  proofs  of  the  prospectus. 

$th  August. — Began  "History  of  School." 

1 >]th  August. — Go  to  school  again.  Riots  are  all  the  talk. 
Great  prophecies  for  Tuesday. 

2  2nd  August. — Riots  to  be  to-day.     Dine  on  two  biscuits. 
Run  out  with  4>  in  the  evening. 

ist  September. — The  great  day  of  the  year — <l>'s  birthday. 
$rd  September. — Get  an  editor's  copy  of  the  magazine  and 

1  The  Rev.  T.  M.  Middlemore- Whithard  is  now  living  in  retirement  at 
Exmouth.     He  was  formerly  Professor  of  English  Literature  in  Victoria 
College,  Jersey  (1852-1863),  and  Headmaster  of  the  Junior  Department  of 
Cheltenham  College  (1863-1885). 

2  The  second  sister,  Jane  Elizabeth,  married  Mr.  D.  Phillimore ;  the 
youngest,   Mary  Caroline,  married  the  Rev.  J.  C.  Whitley,  the  present 
Bishop  of  Chhota  Nagpur. 

3  Presumably  the  initial  letter  of  ^iXrdr^  =  Dearest.    The  corresponding 
symbol  for  my  father  was  ft. 


tantalise  every  one  with  the  dedication  and  preface.     Walk 
to  the  Botanical  Gardens  with  3>. 

$th  September.  —  The  day  of  publication.  Quite  a  rush. 
Police  wanted  —  a  perfect  riot.  230  copies  disposed  of. 

22nd  September.  —  The  Society  of  Arts  open  to-day  — 
magnificent  pictures.  Dine  nowhere.  Have  tea  at  home. 

$th  October.  —  Our  second  publishing  day.  A  very  good 
sale.  Better  than  last  at  present. 

2^th  October.  —  Go  to  give  <i»  her  drawing  lesson  (to  do 
which  I  give  up  two  other  important  engagements,  willingly), 
and  do  not  even  see  her. 

N.B.  —  Not  very  pleasant.  Am  going  to  the  Red 

\f]th  November.  —  Evans  in  doubt  about  the  Balliol.  I  am 
booked  for  Exeter.1 

20//J  December.  —  Prizes  given  out.  I  certainly  get  my 
share.  In  evening  I  go  with  Tom  2  to  the  wizard  ;  but  he 
dares  not  perform  before  us.  We  go  to  Society  of  Artists. 

$\st  December.  —  Am  quite  desperate  and  read  300  lines  of 
the  Philoctetes  before  breakfast.  Finish  it  in  afternoon  and 
am  now  intending  to  enjoy  myself  and  see  <£.  So  may  it  be. 

TO>     eo). 

In  the  diary,  as  quoted  above,  mention  is  made  of 
the  magazine.  This  was  the  school  magazine,  of  which 
my  father,  with  two  of  his  chief  school  friends,  Evans  3 
and  Purton,4  was  joint  editor.  No.  I  of  King  Edward 
the  Sixth's  Magazine  contains  as  its  first  article  "  A 
brief  History  of  King  Edward's  School,  Birmingham." 
This  being  my  father's  first  printed  essay,  I  venture  to 
reproduce  its  opening  paragraph,  as  a  sample  of  his 
earliest  literary  style  :  — 

1  He  afterwards  gave  up  Exeter,  Oxford,  in  favour  of  Trinity,  Cam 
bridge.     Evans  also  went  to  Trinity. 

2  T.  M.-Whithard. 

3  Craven    University   Scholar,    Senior   Classic,    1847,  and  afterwards 
Headmaster  of  the  school  at  Birmingham. 

4  ].  S.  Purton  was  afterwards  Tutor  and  Master  of  St.   Catherine's 
College,  Cambridge,  and  rector  of  Chetton,  Bridgnorth. 


A  sketch  of  the  history  of  our  Royal  Foundation  cannot 
be  unacceptable  to  those  scholars  who  are  at  present  enjoying 
the  advantages  it  offers ;  while  others  who  have  entered  on  a 
wider  field  of  action  must  still  feel  an  interest  in  the  in 
stitution  which  fostered  their  literary  ardour  at  its  first  dawn. 
The  expressions  of  regret  we  often  hear  from  those  who  leave 
us  sufficiently  prove  the  latter  assertion,  without  enlarging 
on  the  ardent  friendships,  zealous  studies,  and  boisterous 
amusements,  the  very  recollection  of  which  seems  to  cast  a 
spell  around  the  name  of  school,  and  render  "each  dim- 
discovered  scene  "  joyous  with  pleasing  associations. 

As  head  of  the  school  Westcott  once  had  the  honour 
of  reading  a  Latin  address  of  welcome  to  the  Prince 
Consort,  in  which  the  usual  petition  for  a  holiday  was 
embodied.  The  Prince  smiled  and  bowed,  but  said 
nothing  about  the  holiday.  Not  to  be  beaten,  young 
Westcott  rushed  to  his  room,  wrote  out  the  address  in 
English,  and  again  presented  it  to  the  Prince.  So 
the  boys  got  their  holiday.  In  speaking  to  the  boys 
of  Durham  School  in  1890,  my  father  recalled  this 
episode,  a  propos  of  their  Latin  address  to  him. 

The  diary  was  spasmodically  resumed  in  1844,  anc* 
I  make  therefrom  a  few  more  extracts  : — 

bth  January. — In  the  afternoon  <!>  comes  down  to  give  me 
my  music  lesson,  but  I  am  not  a  very  apt  pupil. 

zgth  January. — How  strange  things  will  happen  !  Go  out 
a  ride  to-day,  and  where  do  I  go  in  fox-hunting !  and  yet 
break  no  limb,  nay,  do  not  even  tumble  at  all. 

yd  February. — <£»  has  been  pretty  industrious  and  draws 
very  well — quite  astonishes  me,  and  I  determine  that  wonders 
will  never  cease,  which  is  further  proved  by  my  reading 

6th  March. — Go  to  have  a  view  of  the  great  agitator — a 
very  clownish  fellow  he  is  too — and  he  makes  me  go  without 
my  dinner,  though  "angels  delight  to  hear  him,"  as  Mr. 
MacDonnell  said. 


27^  April — Go  to  cricket  again  to-day,  ist  class  against 
the  school — beaten — but  not  in  one  innings. 

tfh  May  (Saturday). — Recollections  of  the  week  dismal. 
Mr.  Lee  ill — nothing  but  mathematics  and  composition.  I 
become  a  member  of  Trinity;  "Felix  faustumque  sit." 

The  Rev.  T.  M.  Middlemore-Whithard,  my  mother's 
brother,  has  kindly  furnished  the  following  interesting 
recollections  of  my  father's  school-days  : — 

"  I  cannot  recall  the  exact  time  and  occasion  of  my 
first  acquaintance  with  Brooke  Foss  Westcott.  Although 
three  years  and  ten  months  his  junior,  I  had  entered 
King  Edward's  School  before  he  joined  it,  and  just 
before  it  was  removed  from  the  *  Shakespeare  Rooms ' 
facing  Bennet's  Hill  to  the  new  buildings. 

"  It  became  a  tradition  in  the  family,  cherished  also 
by  the  sister  who  was  afterwards  to  become  my  friend's 
wife,  that  our  intimacy  was  not  only  cemented  but 
originated  by  his  courageous  rescue  of  me,  an  unknown 
schoolfellow,  from  the  assault  of  a  rough  street  boy, 
whom  he  fought  and  discomfited,  surrounded  by  a 
ring  of  sympathetic  bystanders,  who  secured  for  him 
fair-play,  and  congratulated  him  upon  his  victory.  The 
incident  and  the  details  are  in  the  main  exact  and  true, 
and  are  ineffaceably  impressed  upon  my  memory,  but  I 
also  clearly  recollect  that  on  this  occasion  we  were 
walking  together  to  school,  when  I  was  felled  by  a 
stone-laden  snowball,  and  that  on  rising  again  from 
the  ground  I  saw  my  champion,  who  had  laid  down 
his  books  upon  the  kerb,  just  returning  to  pick  them 
up,  while  my  assailant,  in  tears  and  amid  jeers,  was 
slinking  away.  This,  then,  was  not  the  beginning  of 
our  acquaintance,  and  it  was  far  from  being  the  only 
time  that  I  owed  protection  to  his  courageous  and  un 
selfish  help.  We  were  close  neighbours  in  our  homes, 


and  I  believe  that  through  a  common  friend  and  a 
relative  of  mine  the  intercourse  between  the  families 
began.  It  is  confirmatory  of  this  to  note  that  by  the 
summer  of  1838,  when  my  parents  removed  to  live  in 
a  house  of  their  own  near  Bristol,  I  became  an  inmate 
of  Mr.  Westcott's  house,  and  I  remained  there  during 
the  school  periods,  sharing  the  same  room  with  my 
friend,  until  the  autumn  of  1841,  when  we  returned  to 
reside  in  Birmingham.  Mrs.  Westcott,  in  a  letter  to 
my  mother  dated  8th  October  1838,  says,  'Brooke 
and  Mid.  are  seldom  a  yard  apart.  At  6  P.M.  they 
are  setting  to  their  work,  and  they  leave  for  school 
together  at  8  in  the  morning.' 

"  The  influence  of  the  simple  home  life,  controlled  by 
strict  frugality,  and  marked  on  Mr.  Westcott's  part  by 
studious  and  engrossing  devotion  to  scientific  pursuits, 
were  such  as  to  foster  in  the  son  a  certain  independ 
ence  of  character,  of  individuality  and  strong  will,  but 
which  was  not  without  some  tendency  at  times  to 
moodiness  and  great  reserve.  His  natural  disposition 
was  shy  and  saturnine  ;  he  was  quick  in  taking  offence 
and  forming  dislikes,  and  in  either  case  he  would  show 
displeasure  by  long  silence.  He  used  at  times  to 
complain  that  others  would  not  take  the  trouble  to 
understand  his  temper.  But  with  all  this  he  was  un 
selfish  and  kind,  never  forgetful  of  any  service  done,  and 
always  courteous,  and  even  friendly,  to  his  inferiors. 

"  I  remember  well  the  strong  affection  and  grateful 
regard  that  in  many  ways  he  manifested  to  an  old 
servant,  who  seemed  to  me  to  have  little  in  manner  or 
appearance  to  render  her  attractive.  He  told  me  the 
story,  which  he  had  learned  from  his  mother,  of  how, 
when  he  was  an  infant,  she  had  saved  him  from 
burglars,  who,  in  the  absence  of  all  besides  his  nurse, 


had  attempted  to  force  an  entrance  into  their  solitary 
house  at  Erdington.  Finding,  when  she  went  upstairs, 
a  ladder  resting  on  a  window-sill  and  a  man  just 
mounting  on  it,  with  quick  presence  of  mind  she 
opened  the  sash  and  threw  the  ladder  and  its  occu 
pant  to  the  ground,  then  refastened  the  window, 
snatched  the  baby  from  his  cot,  and  rushing  with  him 
to  another  room  at  the  front,  which  was  nearer  to  some 
cottages,  she  locked  herself  in,  and,  opening  the 
window,  attracted  the  notice  and  assistance  of  the 
neighbours,  by  her  cries  and  by  clapping  her  hands 
'  till  they  were  black  with  bruises.' 

"  In  those  early  days  I  cannot  recollect  that  he  had 
any  school  companions  with  whom  he  joined  in  boyish 
games.  He  used  his  leisure  chiefly  in  sketching,  and 
arranging  his  collections  of  ferns  and  butterflies  and 
moths,  and  in  reading  books  of  natural  history  or 
poetry.  It  was  not  that  he  lacked  physical  aptitude 
for  athletic  sports,  and  there  was  nothing  that  he  ever 
undertook  without  intensity  of  purpose  and  persevering 
effort.  He  became  an  expert  skater,  and  when  in 
later  days  he  gave  such  little  time  as  the  scant  oppor 
tunities  of  a  town  school  and  a  distant  play  -  field 
allowed,  he  was  no  mean  proficient  in  school  games. 
His  chief  pastimes  were,  however,  of  a  scientific  kind. 
There  were  frequent  visits  to  the  Mechanics'  Institute, 
and  with  his  father's  assistance  he  procured  a  galvanic 
battery,  and  in  the  early  days,  as  it  must  have  been, 
of  electro  -  metallurgy  he  obtained,  from  coins  and 
medals,  matrices,  from  which  he  took  casts  in  plaster 
of  Paris,  and  in  this  latter  process  I  took  a  feeble  part. 
We  also  made  gun-cotton,  and  amused  ourselves  in 
taking  sun  pictures  of  ferns  upon  chemically-prepared 


"  I  can  recollect  only  two  amusements  of  a  more 
trivial  kind.  The  one  was  the  erection  of  a  marionette 
theatre,  in  which,  by  the  help  of  wires  that  worked 
card-mounted  figures,  and  more  or  less  dramatic  part- 
readings  from  behind  a  curtain,  we  gave,  no  doubt, 
thrilling  representations  to  what  must  certainly  have 
been  a  very  small  and  select  company  of  spectators. 
The  other  was  practice  with  the  leaping-pole,  and  this, 
in  the  small  yard  behind  the  house,  which  served  as 
our  only  recreation -ground,  was  once  attended  with 
an  accident  that  might  have  brought  to  a  premature 
close  a  life  that  was  destined  to  be  so  useful  and  so 
great.  I  shall  never  forget  the  terror  with  which  I 
saw  my  friend,  when,  after  many  unavailing  efforts,  he 
had  at  last  succeeded  in  reaching  with  his  feet  the  top 
of  the  high  boundary  wall,  fall,  through  the  sudden 
breakage  of  the  pole,  head  downwards,  and  then  lie 
motionless,  and  apparently  lifeless,  on  the  ground.  I 
ran  to  him,  and  my  cries  soon  brought  more  effective 
help  ; "  but  it  was  some  time  before  we  were  cheered 
by  seeing  consciousness  return,  and  his  father's  and 
mother's  fears  give  place  to  the  assurance  that  no 
grave  harm  was  done. 

"  Whenever  a  travelling  menagerie  came  into  the 
town  he  eagerly  took  advantage  of  it,  and  often  thus 
at  Wombwell's  he  would  note  the  habits  of  the  animals 
and  note  in  his  sketch-book  their  movements  and  their 
strange  forms. 

"  There  was  another  exhibition  which  also,  at  another 
and  later  time,  had  a  special  attraction  for  him,  and 
induced  many  visits  and  much  reading  on  his  part. 
This  was  Catlin's  Indians.  He  learned  up  all  that  he 
could  find  about  the  races,  the  history  and  customs  of 
the  several  tribes. 


"  Apart  from  the  works  of  Walter  Scott,  knowledge 
of  which  Prince  Lee  was  very  fond  of  testing  in  his 
class,  I  never  knew  Brooke  care  to  read  any  novels, 
but  he  did  make  an  exception  with  one  or  two  of 
Cooper's  for  his  Red  Indians'  sake. 

"  In  the  half-holidays  we  often  went  to  the  Botanic 
Garden,  where,  while  Mr.  Westcott  gave  botanical 
lectures  to  his  pupils  of  the  Sydenham  College,  we 
played  at  bat  and  ball,  or  made  dams  and  set  up  over 
shot  and  undershot  water-wheels  in  the  rivulet  that 
drained  the  pond.  In  the  summer  months  bathing  in 
one  or  other  of  the  few  pools  in  the  river  Rea,  and 
boating  on  the  reservoir  at  Kirby's  near  Selby  Oak, 
had  their  attractions  for  him  now  and  then. 

"  There  were  visits,  too,  to  his  father's  friend,  Mr. 
Wilmot,  at,  I  think,  Oldbury,  where  he  found  much 
pleasure  in  inspecting  the  pictures,  of  which  there  was 
a  somewhat  large  collection  brought  from  Italy ;  and 
then  again  to  Mr.  Barker's  and  all  the  splendours  of  his 
orchid-houses.  At  other  times  there  were  long  walks 
in  search  of  specimens,  and  Brooke  delighted  in  the 
discovery  of  fresh  habitats  of  special  plants  and  mosses 
and  ferns,  which  he  knew  his  father  prized. 

"  On  whole  holidays  it  was  his  regular  practice  to 
make  expeditions  to  more  distant  places,  and  walk 
twenty  miles  and  more,  and  often  I  accompanied  him, 
not  only  when  living  with  him,  but  in  after  years  up  to 
his  undergraduate  days. 

"  Entrusted  with  a  little  pocket-money,  sufficient  for 
the  charges  of  our  modest  mid-day  meal,  we  made  an 
early  start,  and  beguiled  the  way  looking  for  special 
plants  which  his  father  asked  for,  or  using  and  enjoy 
ing  his  keen  observation  and  sense  of  natural  beauty, 
as  he  pointed  out  to  me  some  striking  features  in 


wood  and  field,  *  the  perfect  beauty  of  the  trees/  and 
sometimes  quoted  lines  of  Wordsworth  or  other  poets 
in  illustration  of  his  feelings  or  descriptive  of  the  scene. 
Then  when  we  reached  the  church,  which  was   most 
likely   the   special   object   of  our   walk,   he   would   sit 
down  and  sketch,  and  with  a  few  rapid  and  suggestive 
touches,  afterwards  to  be  completed,  strike  off  in  per 
fect  proportion  the  architectural  character  of  the  build 
ing,  not  failing,  however,  to  note  carefully  the  mixture 
of  the  styles,  and  to  note  the  sections  of  the  mouldings 
in  the  different  parts.    His  singular  and  natural  aptitude 
as   a   draughtsman  had  been   fostered   by  his  attach 
ment  to  our  drawing  master,  Peter  Hamilton,  who  soon 
regarded  him  as  his  favourite  and  most  promising  pupil, 
and  often  to  his  great  delight  invited  him  to  his  rooms 
to  spend  the  evening  and  examine  with  him  his  large 
collection  of  drawings,  engravings,  and  designs. 

"Although  his  own  special  tastes  lay,   I   think,  in 
architectural    delineation,   he    had   great   fondness    for 
painting  and  art  of  every  kind,  and  one  of  the  chief 
treats,  which  he  never  failed  to  claim,  was  a  visit  to 
the  periodical  exhibitions  in  the  School  of  Arts,  and 
often    I    have   heard   his   father   and    others    seek   his 
opinion  on  the  special  points  he  noticed  in  the  pro 
ductions  there.      Several   pictures   I   can   now  recall  of 
Maclise  and   Haydon  and  Etty  and  Cooper  which  he 
criticised  and  explained  for  me.      I  have  spoken  of  the 
pleasure  which  he  took  as  a  boy  in  spending  a  quiet 
evening  with  Mr.  Hamilton,  but  I  cannot  refrain  from 
telling,  as  it  just  occurs  to  me,  of  his  unselfish  interest  in 
giving  up  time  to  assist  an  old  lady  friend  of  ours,  who, 
late  in  life,  had  set  herself  the  task  of  learning  Greek, 
in  order  to  read  the  New  Testament  in  the  original. 
"  After   the   comfortable    tea    and    finding   a   short 




CJ  X 

j:  -' 

?  * 

5  i 


amusement  in  lighting  up  an  orrery,  which  she  had 
skilfully  arranged  with  her  own  hands,  he  would  spend 
an  hour  or  two,  won  by  the  sacrifice  of  leisure  time 
before,  in  teaching  her  ;  and  her  grateful  surprise  at 
his  patience  and  care  seemed  to  afford  him  the  greatest 
satisfaction,  and  he  was  always  ready  to  accept  her 
invitation  for  more  help. 

"  Few  places  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Birmingham 
remained  unvisited  by  us,  and  Bromsgrove,  Dudley, 
Halesowen,  Sutton  Coldfield,  Coleshill,  and  even  Lich- 
field,  were  not  beyond  the  limits  of  our  explorations. 
I  remember  well  that  we  had  one  day  a  most  kind 
reception  at  Oscott  College,  where,  coming  as  wander 
ing  schoolboys,  without  introduction  or  other  claim, 
we  were  taken  over  the  whole  building,  and  my  friend 
was  shown  some  of  the  special  treasures  of  the  library 
by  one  of  the  principal  authorities, — we  learned  after 
wards,  I  believe,  that  it  was  the  recently  appointed 
President,  Dr.  Wiseman,  himself.  A  strange  meeting, 
considering  the  after  careers  of  this  boy  and  this 
distinguished  man. 

"  The  fondness  for  country  rambles  found  wider 
scope  at  times  either  when  he  accompanied  his  father 
on  fishing  excursions  to  Shropshire,  or  when  he  paid  a 
visit  to  his  aunt  at  Ashby-de-la-Zouch.  I  have  walked 
with  him  in  .our  school-days  the  forty-two  miles  from 
Birmingham,  through  Hagley,  Bendley,  and  Cleobury, 
over  the  Clee  Hills  to  Ludlow  ;  and  here  while  staying 
with  his  relations — for  this  town  had  been  his  grand 
father  Captain  Westcott's  home — he  found  unfailing 
interest  in  castle  and  church  and  timbered  houses,  or 
in  wandering  in  quest  of  fossils  on  the  hills,  or  watch 
ing  his  father  play  the  grayling  along  the  Teme  banks 
at  Leintwardine. 

VOL.  I  C 


"  From  Ashby,  on  foot,  or  by  chance  drives  to 
help  us  on  the  way,  we  went  to  Tutbury  and  Breedon, 
Castle  Donnington  and  Coleorton,  and  to  this  last 
place  he  seemed  attracted  and  to  make  as  it  were  a 
pilgrimage,  because,  he  said,  as  he  pointed  out  to  me 
the  house  upon  the  hill,  that  was  the  home  of  Sir 
George  Beaumont,  the  friend  of  Wordsworth,  the 
painter  and  patron  of  artists,  who  helped  to  found  the 
National  Gallery  and  gave  his  pictures  to  it.  Once 
we  went  to  the  Carmelite  settlement  at  Grace  Dieu 
and  spent  the  whole  day  watching  the  monks  labour 
ing  to  bring  under  cultivation  the  barren  Charnwood 
soil,  and  for  our  mid-day  meal  we  profite'd  gladly  by 
their  simple  hospitality  in  the  guest-chamber,  and 
wished  that  we  could  have  accepted  their  invitation  to 
spend  the  night  there  also. 

"  But  now  I  must  look  back  upon  an  experience  of 
the  Bishop's  early  life  which  gives  us,  I  think,  a  glimpse 
into  some  special  features  of  his  character,  and  enables 
us  to  note  the  first  development  of  his  interest  in  social 
questions,  in  which  hereafter  he  was  to  do  such  service 
as  a  peacemaker,  the  enforcer  of  the  recognition  of 
associated  benefits  and  obligations  in  mankind.  I  was 
very  young,  but  I  well  recollect  his  telling  me  how, 
when  he  was  a  child,  I  suppose  in  1831,  he  had  seen 
Thomas  Attwood  lead  a  vast  crowd  of  men  to  a  mass 
meeting  of  the  political  unions  ;  and  then  again,  as  we 
stood  together  at  his  father's  door  in  1838,  we  saw  this 
same  leader,  who  noticed  us  boys  as  he  passed,  proceed 
to  the  great  Chartist  demonstration  at  Hollo  way  Head 
close  by. 

"Then  in  1839,  possibly  after  we  had  witnessed 
together  the  triumphal  entry  of  Feargus  O'Connor — 
though  I  am  sure  only  of  this  circumstance  and  not 


of  the  date — a  time  of  still  more  serious  disturbances 
began.  I  read  in  a  home  letter  of  my  own,  1 8th  May, 
4  There  is  a  great  disturbance  in  the  town  with  the 
Chartists.  Two  of  the  ringleaders  were  arrested 
yesterday  for  sedition,  Fussell  and  Brown.  Brown 
has  been  making  speeches  in  the  Bull  Ring,  inciting 
the  people,  and  blocking  the  thoroughfare.  There 
was  a  proclamation  issued  forbidding  meetings,  but 
the  people  trampled  it  under  foot.  Then  the  magis 
trates  issued  another,  and  now  the  Chartists  have 
come  to  the  hill  near  here  and  are  much  more  in 
furiated  than  before,  because  their  leaders  have  been 
taken.  There  are  lots  of  soldiers  in  the  town,  Cavalry 
and  Rifle  Brigade.'  Afterwards,  on  I  5th  July,  the  riots 
took  place,  and  on  the  morrow  we  went  to  see  the 
ruins  of  the  houses  that  had  been  burnt,  and  the 
soldiers  posted  in  the  streets.  I  used  to  hear  Brooke 
talk  compassionately  about  these  things  with  his  cousin, 
William  Baxter,  a  young  man  engaged  in  business  in 
the  town,  and  he  seemed  to  me  to  find  reasons  and 
excuses  for  what  had  happened. 

"  It  was  the  same  with  some  other  matters  that  he 
took  a  strange  interest  in  not  very  long  after  that  time, 
especially  in  Mormonism,  then  first  sending  its  emis 
saries  among  the  labouring  classes  of  the  town,  and 
later  on  in  Positivism.  He  told  me  that  all  excesses 
and  mischievous  delusions  among  men  came  from  one 
sided  views  of  truth,  and  too  great  importance  given 
to  one  aspect  of  it,  or  else  from  people's  assertion  of 
party  needs  ;  that  the  way  to  combat  error  was  to  seek 
the  element  of  good  in  it,  and  show  that  its  real 
explanation  and  satisfaction  were  included  in  the 
Bible ;  that  the  surest  plan  to  stop  strife  and  dis 
affection  was  to  proclaim  the  common  responsibilities 


of  the  multitude  and  their  fellowship  with  one  another. 
I  cannot,  of  course,  recall  the  doubtless  simpler  language 
that  he  used  in  speaking  to  me  of  these  things,  but 
the  memory  of  his  feeling  on  these  subjects  has  ever 
been  vivid  and  permanent  since  boyhood's  days.  Posi 
tivism,  he  said,  claimed  to  be  the  religion  of  humanity, 
and  many  features  of  it,  he  believed,  would  in  the 
future  prove  to  be  right,  in  so  far  as  they  appealed 
not  to  individuals  only  but  to  communities,  to  mutual 
duties  and  general  aims. 

"  I  recollect  his  procuring  and  studying  the  Book  of 
Mormon  about  1840,  and  afterwards  obtaining  tracts 
on  Positive  Philosophy,  perhaps  in  1842. 

"  As  I  read  quite  recently  one  of  the  Bishop's  latest 
books,  Social  Aspects  of  Life,  when  I  caught  there  the 
echoes  of  so  many  thoughts  to  which  I  had  known 
him  give  a  fainter  utterance  in  youthful  days,  I  could 
not  fail  to  be  struck  by  the  testimony  that  it  bore  to 
the  continuity  of  his  ideals  and  his  views  of  life,  and 
to  recognise  how  indeed  in  his  case  it  had  proved  true 
*  that  the  child  was  father  to  the  man.' 

"  Age  did  but  bring  to  him  maturity  of  wisdom,  a 
fuller  spirituality,  a  meeker  gentleness,  a  clearer  illumin 
ation  and  joy  of  faith. 

"  The  life  of  the  Bishop  even  in  his  school-days  was 
eminently  thoughtful  and  studious.  As  I  look  back 
on  it  now  I  can  detect  its  breadth  of  feeling  and 
opinion,  the  staid  eclecticism  which  sought  alone  for 
what  was  good  and  true.  Earnestly  and  thoroughly, 
I  may  say  intensely,  he  threw  himself  into  every  work. 
Apart  from  the  recreations  I  have  mentioned,  I  never 
knew  him  indulge  in  mere  pastimes  or  loitering  indo 
lence  of  any  kind.  Unflagging  in  effort  and  thoughtful 
occupation,  he  even  then  had  little  time  to  play.  Very 


frequently  he  stayed  in  town  on  the  whole  school-days, 
and,  after  a  very  short  and  frugal  meal  at  a  quiet 
eating-house  in  Bull  Street,  or  a  few  biscuits  that  he 
ate  as  he  walked,  he  would  go  to  the  Old  Library, 
for  which  we  both  had  members'  tickets,  and  spend 
the  whole  remaining  time  on  voluntary  classical  work, 
or  in  studying  history  and  archaeology.  Only  occasion 
ally,  I  think  also  for  my  sake,  did  he  permit  himself 
to  look  at  illustrated  books,  and  of  these  I  remember 
specially  Roberts'  Holy  Land  and  Audubon's  great 
work  on  birds. 

"  The  influence  of  his  great  teacher,  Prince  Lee, 
found  in  his  earnest  and  thoughtful  spirit  a  most  con 
genial  soil  ;  and  the  scorn  of  little  and  shallow  things, 
the  love  of  moral  and  intellectual  truthfulness,  the 
supremacy  and  permanency  of  goodness,  the  ardent 
pursuit  of  knowledge  for  its  own  sake,  the  patient  and 
laborious  investigation  of  the  full  significance  of  style 
and  single  words,  the  desire  to  interpret  the  language 
of  every  author  first  by  the  careful  comparison  of  all 
his  other  writings,  and  then  by  the  light  of  all  that 
the  widest  reading  of  history  and  poetry  could  lend, 
were  stirred  in  him  through  the  suggestiveness  and 
the  enthusiasm  which  Lee  conveyed  in  explanation 
of  the  classics  or  in  Bible  lessons.  He  certainly  was 
among  the  worthiest  of  his  pupils  and  the  most  loving 
of  his  followers. 

"  Quiet  and  humble  and  retiring,  he  was,  I  think, 
sought  out  by  the  sympathetic  tenderness  which 
assuredly  lay  at  the  root  of  his  master's  character. 
Some  little  peculiarities,  such  as  the  habit,  preserved 
throughout  life,  of  closing  his  eyes  as  if  asleep,  and 
resting  his  head  upon  his  hand,  were  passed  over  in 
his  case,  through  fear,  perhaps,  of  causing  any  dis- 


couragement,  though  in  others  they  would  have  failed 
to  find  excuse.  It  would  be  startling  to  enumerate  the 
acquirements  of  his  private  work  long  before  he  went 
up  to  Cambridge,  and  to  tell  the  feats  of  his  quick 
and  retentive  memory,  which  gave  him  the  marvellous 
power  of  citation  he  possessed,  and  made  him  familiar 
with  almost  every  line  of  Virgil  and  Horace,  and  such 
large  portions  of  Juvenal,  of  Homer,  and  the  Greek 
tragic  poets.  I  see  in  one  of  my  earliest  school  letters, 
Nov.  1838,  this  notice,  *  Mr.  Lee  has  given  permission 
for  voluntary  preparation  by  heart,  and  Brooke  will  take 
up  at  Easter  2600  lines  of  Virgil,  and  500  of  Homer' ; 
and  once  I  myself  heard  him  say  the  whole  of  a  speech 
of  Cicero,  the  Second  Catiline,  which  he  offered  as  a 
self-imposed  holiday  task. 

"  He  was  fond  of  music,  and  at  one  time  gave  up 
pretty  regularly  some  leisure  in  acquiring  a  little  practi 
cal  efficiency.  His  knowledge  of  the  theory  was,  how 
ever,  in  advance  of  this,  and  I  recollect  he  composed 
several  chants  and  hymn  tunes.  In  a  town  like  Birming 
ham  there  were  abundant  opportunities  of  hearing  the 
best  music,  and  many  times  we  were  present  at  concerts 
in  the  Town  Hall.  I  can  see  him  in  fancy  now,  there 
or  in  our  home,  when  my  sister  sang  or  played,  sitting 
with  eyes  covered,  absorbed  in  listening,  and  taking  in 
as  it  were  mysterious  messages  from  the  harmonies  he 

"  Chess,  too,  claimed  him  as  an  aspirant  to  skill 
upon  its  board.  He  liked  much  to  get  a  game  with 
one  of  the  masters,  Mr.  Calder,  whom  he  greatly 
respected,  or  with  a  cousin  of  mine  who  was  often  on 
a  visit  to  us  while  home  on  furlough  from  India,  or 
still  more  frequently  with  my  sister,  who,  I  fear,  was 
less  enthusiastic  than  himself. 


"  I  became  one  of  Mr.  Lee's  own  pupils  in  March 
1844,  and  my  friend  made  a  note  that  on  that  day  I 
was  *  admitted  to  the  privileges  of  the  I  st  class/  so 
that  I  was  only  for  a  few  months,  and  at  a  reverential 
distance  from  him,  the  witness  of  the  performance  of 
his  school  work.  I  enjoyed,  however,  for  years  daily 
intercourse  with  him,  noted  his  assiduous  toil,  profited 
by  his  counsels  and  his  help.  Many  times  a  week  he 
came  up  to  our  house,  usually  prepared  his  work  there  ; 
sometimes  he  remained  for  the  night,  or  I  went  back 
with  him.  I  could  always  count  upon  his  affection, 
and  I  had  ever  before  me  what  I  may  call  the  severity 
of  his  example,  that  seemed  at  times  to  put  too  great 
a  strain  upon  my  younger  and  far  less  elevated  aims. 
I  have  to  regret  some  wrongheadedness  and  jealousy 
that  robbed  me  of  the  full  fruits  of  his  intimacy. 

"  These  are  after  all  but  slight  and  confused  remi 
niscences  of  boyhood's  days,  in  which  I  myself  had  some 
immediate  part.  There  is  very  much  more  to  say. 
I  might  tell  of  his  relations  with  his  more  distinguished 
school-fellows,  as  Keary,  C.  Evans,  Rendall,  Purton, 
Holden,  and  T.  Price.  Except  at  school,  the  inter 
course  with  the  first  three,  who  were  boarders  in  Lee's 
house,  was  rare,  but  Purton  and  Price  he  often  met, 
and  with  the  former,  who  lived  near,  he  liked  to  talk 
not  only  of  work  and  ambitions,  but  of  his  geological 
and  architectural  rambles  in  the  neighbourhood.  Per 
haps  worthy  of  record  also  is  the  keen  and  active 
interest  he  took  in  the  editorship  and  preparation 
of  the  school  magazine,  and  the  great  delight  he 
felt  in  its  earliest  success  ;  but  I  was  then  a  boy  in 
the  fourth  class,  and  could  know  nothing  of  the 
anxieties  and  triumphs  of  authorship^  Many  stories 
could  I  tell  of  our  fossil  forays  on  the  Cotswolds, 


and  the  long  walks  we  took,  and  the  camping- out 
we  attempted,  while  exploring  churches  or  scenery. 
I  have  a  vivid  recollection  of  a  walk  under  dismal 
circumstances,  when  we  journeyed  for  something  over 
twenty-five  miles  into  Bristol  through  pouring  rain,  and, 
in  spite  of  the  purchase  of  two  wisps  of  straw,  from 
which  we  improvised  shelters  that  made  us  look  like 
walking  sheaves,  we  arrived  in  the  suburbs  quite  wet 
through,  travel-stained,  and  weary.  As  we  approached 
the  turning  where  we  had  to  leave  the  high-road,  my 
friend  caught  sight  of  a  young  girl  crying,  who  was  in 
vain  trying  to  draw  a  little  carriage,  with  a  couple  of 
clothes-baskets,  up  a  hill.  Brooke  hurried  forward  and 
seized  the  handle,  asking  the  girl  where  and  how  far 
she  had  to  go.  She  pointed  out  a  house  at  some 
distance,  and  then  he  vigorously  dragged  up  her  load, 
and  having  at  last  safely  brought  it  to  its  destination, 
returned  to  me  and  we  resumed  our  way.  We  were 
very  tired  and  dispirited,  but  he  was  quiet,  unpretend 
ing,  and  generous  as  was  his  wont. 

"  I  was  much  with  him  during  his  vacation  times, 
while  an  undergraduate,  between  the  end  of  1844  and 
1847,  and  soon  after  I  went  up  to  Trinity  I  became 
his  pupil  and  was  there  called  into  close  association 
with  him,  and  with  those  who  enjoyed  the  benefits  of 
his  teaching  and  the  inspiration  of  his  friendship." 

One  of  the  latest  entries  in  my  father's  diary  of 
1844,  under  date  the  29th  of  June,  tells  of  a  call  on 
Mr.  Lee,  who  was  "full  of  good  wishes  and  inspiring 
with  hope."  With  this  last  interview  my  father's 
school-days  ended.  He  owed  very  much  to  his  hon 
oured  teacher,  and  always  delighted  to  acknowledge 
the  debt.  He  kept  his  master's  portrait  continually 


before  his  eyes,  and  when  in  later  years  my  mother 
desired  to  place  his  own  picture  above  her  writing- 
table,  he  would  only  consent  to  have  it  thus  in  evidence 
on  condition  that  it  was  hung  beneath  his  master's. 
When  in  1893  he  visited  Birmingham,  on  the  occasion 
of  the  opening  of  a  new  girls'  school  on  King  Edward's 
Foundation,  he  paid  a  public  tribute  to  his  great  teacher's 
memory.  Part  of  what  he  then  said  may  well  be 
quoted  here  :— 

When  I  desire  to  express  my  best  and  loftiest  wishes  for 
the  Foundation  to  which  I  owe  the  preparation  of  my  life's 
work,  it  is  natural  I  should  look  back  to  my  own  master, 
James  Prince  Lee — superior,  as  I  believe,  among  the  great 
masters  of  his  time — for  the  guidance  of  my  thoughts.  Some 
things  never  grow  old.  His  presence,  his  voice,  his  manner, 
his  expression  have  lost  nothing  of  their  vivid  power  in  half 
a  century.  I  can  recall,  as  if  it  were  from  a  lesson  of  yester 
day,  the  richness  and  force  of  the  illustrations  by  which  he 
brought  home  to  us  a  battle  piece  of  Thucydides,  with  a 
landscape  of  Virgil,  or  a  sketch  of  Tacitus ;  the  eloquence 
with  which  he  discoursed  on  problems  of  life  and  thought 
suggested  by  some  favourite  passages  in  Butler's  Analogy  ; 
the  depths  which  he  opened  to  us  in  the  inexhaustible  fulness 
of  the  Apostolic  words ;  the  appeals  which  he  made  to  our 
highest  instincts,  revealing  us  to  ourselves,  in  crises  of  our 
school  history  or  in  the  history  of  the  nation.  We  might  be 
able  to  follow  him  or  not,  we  might  as  we  grew  older  agree 
with  particular  opinions  which  he  expressed  or  not ;  but  we 
were  stirred  in  our  work,  we  felt  a  little  more  the  claims  of 
duty,  the  pricelessness  of  opportunity,  the  meaning  of  life. 
And  when  I  reflect  now  on  all  that  he  did  and  suggested  in 
the  light  of  my  own  long  experience  as  a  teacher,  I  seem  to 
be  able  to  discern  something  of  my  master's  secret,  the 
secret  in  due  measure  of  every  teacher's  influence.  He 
claimed  us  from  the  first  as  his  fellow-workers.  He  made  us 
feel  that  in  all  learning  we  must  be  active  and  not  receptive 
only.  That  he  only  learns,  in  any  true  human  sense,  who 


thinks,  even  as  he  only  teaches  who  learns.  He  encouraged 
us  to  collect,  to  examine,  to  arrange  facts  which  lay  within 
the  range  of  our  own  reading  for  his  use  in  dealing  with  some 
larger  problem.  In  this  way  we  gained  little  by  little  a  direct 
acquaintance  with  the  instruments  and  methods  of  criticism, 
and  came  to  know  something  of  confident  delight  in  using 
them.  There  was,  we  rejoiced  to  discover,  a  little  thing 
which  we  could  do,  a  service  which  we  could  render,  in 
offering  which  we  could  make  towards  the  fulness  of  the 
work  on  which  we  were  engaged.  This  feeling  was  deepened 
by  his  kingly  independence.  We  had  in  those  days  for 
the  most  part  simple  texts  of  the  classics — the  editions 
of  Tauchnitz  or  Trubner,  without  note  or  comment.  Every 
difficult  phrase  was,  therefore,  a  problem ;  and  grammars 
and  lexicons  were  the  only  helps  at  hand  for  the  solution  of 
it.  But  we  were  trained  to  recognise  the  elements  with 
which  we  had  to  deal,  and  to  trust  great  principles  of  inter 
pretation.  Such  discipline  could  not  fail  to  brace  and 
stimulate;  and  lest  our  zeal  should  flag,  the  few  English 
commentaries  which  existed  were  made  to  furnish  terrible 
warnings  against  the  neglect  of  thoroughness  and  accuracy. 
For  "Mr.  Lee" — that  was  the  simple  title  by  which  we 
always  thought  of  him  to  the  last — had  an  intense  belief  in 
the  exact  force  of  language.  A  word,  as  he  regarded  it,  had 
its  own  peculiar  history  and  its  own  precise  message.  A 
structural  form  conveyed  a  definite  idea.  In  translating  we 
were  bound  to  see  that  every  syllable  gave  its  testimony.  It 
might  be  possible  or  not  to  transfer  directly  into  English  the 
exact  shade  of  meaning  conveyed  by  the  original  text,  but  at 
least  we  were  required  to  take  account  of  the  minutest 
differences  in  turns  of  expression,  to  seek  some  equivalent 
for  their  force,  and  to  weigh  what  was  finally  lost  in  our  own 
renderings.  And,  if  I  am  to  select  one  endowment  which  I 
have  found  precious  for  the  whole  work  of  life  beyond  all 
others,  it  would  be  the  belief  in  words  which  I  gained  through 
the  severest  discipline  of  verbal  criticism.  Belief  in  words 
is  the  foundation  of  belief  in  thought  and  of  belief  in  man. 
Belief  in  words  is  the  guide  to  the  apprehension  of  the  pro 
phetic  element  in  the  works  of  genius.  The  deeper  teachings 
of  poetry  are  not  disposed  of  by  the  superficial  question : 


"Did  the  writer  mean  all  that?"  "No,"  we  boldly  answer, 
"  and  yet  he  said  it,  because  he  saw  the  truth  which  he  did 
not,  and  perhaps  at  that  time  could  not,  consciously  analyse." 
But  the  strictest  precision  of  scholarship  was  never  allowed 
by  our  master  to  degenerate  into  pedantry.  Scholarship 
was  our  training — and  I  have  not  yet  found  any  better — but 
he  pressed  every  interest  of  art  or  science,  of  history  or  travel, 
into  its  service.  The  welcome  greeting  after  the  holidays  was 
"Well,  what  have  you  read?  What  have  you  seen?"  The 
reward  of  a  happy  answer  was  to  be  commissioned  to  fetch 
one  precious  volume  or  another  from  his  library — I  can  see 
their  places  still — in  order  to  fix  a  thought  by  a  new  associa 
tion.  So  we  grew  familiar  with  the  look  of  famous  books,  and 
there  is,  I  believe,  an  elevating  power  even  in  such  outward 
acquaintanceship.  Then  came  lectures  on  art  and  archaeo 
logy  and  physics,  which  he  enabled  the  senior  boys  to  attend. 
These  showed  us  new  regions,  and  stirred  in  us  that  generous 
wonder  which  is  the  condition  of  the  highest  wisdom.  I  can 
remember  watching  in  the  darkened  theatre  of  the  Philo 
sophical  Society  for  the  first  public  exhibition  of  the  electric 
light  in  Birmingham.  "The  experiment  may  not  succeed," 
Dr.  Melson  said — "  I  cannot  feel  sure  "  ;  and  then  followed 
the  blinding  splendour  which  we  are  at  length  tempering  to 
use.  I  remember,  too,  a  striking  series  of  lectures  on  paint 
ing  by  Haydon,  and  one  sentence  in  them  suggested  a  parable 
which  I  often  ponder.  "  Look,"  he  said,  pointing  to  a 
beautiful  chalk  drawing  of  Dentatus  by  his  pupil  Leach,  "  it 
has  no  outline.  There  is  no  outline  in  Nature."  "  There  is 
no  outline  in  Nature  "  :  is  not  this  parable  worth  pondering  ? 
I  lay  stress  on  this  wider,  if  most  fragmentary,  teaching, 
because  I  believe  it  was  essential  to  our  master's  view  of  his 
work,  and  that  it  is  still  the  most  effective  way  of  awakening 
dormant  powers.  If  our  proper  labour  lay  within  a  narrow 
circle — and  is  it  not  certain  that  the  best  disciplinary  teaching 
must  lie  within  a  narrow  circle  ? — we  could  not,  he  held,  labour 
rightly  till  we  knew  the  splendour  of  our  whole  heritage.  For 
him — and  so  he  would  have  it  be  for  us — the  world  was  no  blank, 
no  blot;  it  meant  intensely  and  meant  well.  He  looked  around, 
and  he  looked  forward,  nothing  dissembling  and  nothing 
doubting ;  and  he  bade  us  look  through  every  imperfection 


and  every  cloud  to  the  truth  and  the  light  beyond.  The 
single  word  upon  his  tomb  is,  I  think,  unsurpassed  as  a  con 
fession  of  triumphant — I  would  almost  say  proud — faith: 
SaATTto-et  ("The  trumpet  shall  sound").  My  last  lesson — 
forgive  me  if  I  speak  of  it  here — was  the  fullest  revelation  of 
the  master.  I  was  staying  with  him  for  a  day  or  two  at 
Mauldeth,  a  short  time  before  his  death.  We  were  alone. 
After  dinner  I  turned  the  conversation  from  work  at  Man 
chester  to  work  at  Birmingham.  He  was  glad,  I  think,  to 
go  back  to  the  old  days.  He  spoke  with  proud  delight  of 
his  favourite  classical  authors,  as  if  they  were  still  his  familiar 
companions.  He  poured  out  quotation  after  quotation  as 
we  used  to  hear  them  at  school,  and  dwelt  on  that  finest 
single  line,  as  he  said,  in  Latin  literature,  "  Virtutem  videant 
intabescantque  relicta."1  Graver,  sadder  subjects  followed: 
memories  of  failures  and  disappointments.  Then  came  a 
long  silence.  It  was  growing  dark.  Suddenly  he  turned 
to  me  and  said,  "Ah,  Westcott,  fear  not,  only  believe."2 
In  those  four  words — no  more  was  spoken — there  was  a  true 
interpretation  of  life  as  the  teacher  saw  it,  and  as  he  prepared 
his  scholars  to  see  it :  Work  to  be  done,  work  to  be  done  in 
the  face  of  formidable  difficulties,  work  to  be  done  in  faith 
on  God.  Such,  in  briefest  outline,  was  my  master. 

The  following  are  a  few  of  the  letters  extant,  written 
by  my  father  in  his  boyhood.  The  earliest  was  written 
when  he  was  thirteen  years  of  age  : — 


\jth  October  1838.] 

My  dear  Mrs.  Whittard  —  Before  my  mamma  closes 
this  letter,  I  just  write  a  few  lines  to  express  my  great  pleasure 
upon  receiving  your  letter ;  but  still  you  have  not  told  what 

1  May  they  see  virtue  and  consume  away  for  that  they  have  forsaken  it. 
2  See  p.  249. 


was  most  important,  viz.  how  you  arrived  at  Bristol,  and  what 
sort  of  journey  you  had,  as  the  day  was  so  unfavourable. 
Thomas  is  very  well,  and  "seems  quite  happy.  He  was 
getting  quite  unhappy  at  your  being  so  long  without 
writing,  but  he  used  to  console  himself  by  saying  that  he 
supposed  you  were  so  much  engaged.  Give  my  love  to  L., 
J.,  and  C.,  and  to  Mr.  Whittard,  and  remember  me  kindly 
to  Emma. — With  love,  I  remain,  my  dear  Mrs.  Whittard,  yours 
very  affectionately,  BROOKE  Foss  WESTCOTT. 


CAMBRIDGE,  2&th  July  1841. 

Dear  Louisa — Thomas  and  I  had  a  very  pleasant  walk  on 
Saturday,  and  arrived  in  Cambridge  just  before  the  coach. 
We  went  to  Thornbury  Castle  and  were  very  much  pleased 
with  it.  It  is  a  very  large  building,  in  the  late  perpendicular 
style.  It  is  in  very  good  preservation,  but  was  never  finished. 
The  church  is  a  fine  building  in  the  same  style.  Do  not 
forget  your  architecture,  for  the  pleasure  to  be  derived  from 
knowing  the  date  and  style  of  a  building  when  you  see  it  is 
very  great.  Though  any  person  would  be  pleased  with  such 
a  building  as  Thornbury  Castle,  yet  one  feels  double  delight 
when  acquainted  with  its  beauties  which  arise  from  its 
beautiful  proportions  and  delicate  execution. 

We  had  a  very  pleasant  day  on  Monday,  when  a  large 
party  of  us,  including  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Rape,  your  papa  and 
uncle,  went  over  Berkeley  Castle,  with  which  I  was  very  much 
pleased,  and  thence  to  Sharpness  (or  some  such  name)  Point, 
where  we  had  our  dinner.  Your  papa  left  us  on  Tuesday 
morning.  We  went  with  him  to  the  coach.  Your  uncle  left 

Be  sure  and  practise  your  drawing  while  I  am  away. 
Draw  what  you  like  best.  I  was  going  to  practise  my  music 
at  Thornbury,  but  when  I  touched  one  of  the  keys,  it  gave  out 
such  a  sound  as  would  have  frightened  Mozart  into  fits,  con 
sequently  I  was  disappointed. 

You  must  write  to  me  while  I  am  here  and  tell  me  how 
you  all  go  on.  Tom  is  waiting  to  take  the  letter. — I  remain, 
your  very  affectionate  friend,  BROOKE  F.  WESTCOTT. 



$ist  December  [1841]. 

I  trust  that  you  have  delivered  all  my  messages  in  a 
decorous  manner  worthy  of  their  importance ;  if  not,  repent 
and  make  up  for  past  negligence,  and  in  addition  wish  every 
one  "a  happy  new  year"  on  my  account.  Not  forgetting 
your  own — nose.  Poor  thing  !  how  is  it  ?  Present  my  love 
to  it.  Mine  quite  pines  away  since  Jane  maliciously  broke  its 
bridge  with  your  assistance  and  at  your  instigation.  I  shall 
send  Miss  Roberts  the  full,  true,  and  particular  account  of 
the  length,  breadth,  and  thickness,  external  and  internal 
arrangements,  of  my  apple-tart  at  some  future  period,  together 
with  elevations,  sections,  and  working  drawings.  ...  If  you 
do  not  write  to  me  directly,  I'll — the  original  MS.  is  here  de 
ficient,  and  I  can  think  of  nothing  sufficiently  horrible.  By  the 
bye,  this  is  rather  a  strange  letter,  but  my  thoughts  are  wool 
gathering  in  the  clouds  in  the  city  of  "  Nephelococcygia," 
which  Aristophanes  describes  in  the  Aves,  a  play  of  1800 
lines,  which  I  read  through  and  annotated  in  four  days ! 
So  I  will  conclude  poetically — 

My  paper  is  expended, 

My  ink  too  is  the  same, 
And  as  my  pen  ain't  mended, 

Why,  I  can't  write  my  name. 

N.B. — I  will  write  a  sober  letter  next  time,  steady  and 

BIRMINGHAM,  i^th  January  1842. 

My  dear  Thomas — I  could  philosophise  on  the  rapidity 
with  which  the  years  pass  round,  seeing  that  I  have  now 
numbered  eighteen  summers,  aye,  and  as  many  winters — 
though,  by  the  bye,  the  present  one  can  hardly  be  called  by 
such  a  name  if  frost  is  to  qualify  the  season.  But  a  thought 
has  passed  over  my  mind,  which  is  that  you  dared  to  forget 
when  my  "  natalitia  "  are  celebrated  in  due  course,  or  rather 
now  have  been ;  but  I  will  spite  you,  for  the  last  birthday  you 
kept  is  the  last  of  yours  I  shall  see  for  many  years,  for  next 


time  I  shall  be  located  at  Exeter  College,  Oxon ;  luxuriating 
on  the  banks  of  the  Isis,  the  dear  classic  stream  which 
meanders  through  Christ  Church  meadows.  I  should  have 
written  you  long  since,  but  I  knew  not  your  direction,  since 
when  your  father  left  I  fancied  you  were  going  on  his 
journey,  or  perhaps  going  to  return  to  Cambridge,  so  that 
I  was  in  a  state  of  dubious  hesitation  (a  beautiful  phrase !). 
At  one  time  my  mind  verged  towards  writing,  and  again 
the  fear  of  misdirection  arose  in  my  mind,  till  at  length 
"The  latter  quick  upflew  and  kicked  the  beam."  "A  mag 
nificent  simile,"  quoth  my  amanuensis.  Think  you  so  ? 

We  had  the  old  piano  down  at  our  house,  and  Mrs.  P. 
"  favoured  "  us  (the  proper  phrase,  I  think)  with  "  Meet  me  in 
the  willow  glen,"  which  any  one  would  gladly  have  done  if 
she  would  have  in  that  case  left  off  singing — be  the  conse 
quences  what  they  would.  Such  a  squall,  such  an  accom 
paniment  was  never  heard  since  the  world  began.  I  do  think 
even  my  father  was  in  the  horrors.  After  that  she  offered  to 
play  while  we  danced  (for  certainly  no  one  asked  her),  and  she 
managed  to  spoil  the  quadrilles,  till  we  begged  her  to  desist, 
and  said  she  must  be  tired,  for  we  were  indeed.  After 
that  we  danced  them  valorously. 

I  hope  you  are  in  the  enjoyment  of  every  felicity.  I  have 
dived  very  deeply  into  the  mysteries  of  the  classics,  and  have 
actually  read  through  all  Sophocles,  and  am  now  engaged  on 
Herodotus.  .  .  . 

LUDLOW,  i2th  fidy  1842. 

My  dear  Thomas — You  have  heard,  I  have  no  doubt,  of 
my  transmigration  from  Birmingham  to  Ludlow,  contrary  to 
all  my  protestations  in  favour  of  mathematics  (etc.  etc.).  The 
reason  was  simply  this,  I  had  been  in  anything  but  good 
health  and  wanted  a  change  of  some  kind,  and  recked  not 
whether  it  was  for  better  or  worse,  though  certainly  I  rather 
•  desired  the  former,  and  therefore  embraced  the  opportunity 
of  coming  to  Ludlow  with  your  papa.  He  drove  his  new 
carriage  for  the  first  time,  and  as  usual  when  one  uses  new 
things  it  was  wet.  ...  I  will  divide  my  letter  in  a  scientific 
manner — i.  Generally.  2.  Particularly. 


1.  You  agree  with  every  one  that  London  is  a  very  fine 
place,  a  world  in  epitome ;  this  I  expected,  but  I  consider 
that  we  have  gained  a  great  triumph,  because  you  are  able 
to  find  your  road  about  without  any  vast  difficulty. 

2.  This  section  is  a  larger  one  and  must  be  subdivided, 
(i)  The  people  of  London,  I  see,  have  made  a  great  discovery 
— that  Apollo  was  the  inventor  of  the  violin  (he  couldn't  call 
it  fiddle),  German  flute,  and  pianoforte ;  this  is  curious  and 
important,  and  doubtless  great  learning  will  be  brought  to 
bear  on  this  curious  fact. 

(2)  It  is  a  very  queer  thing  that  churches  are  destined  to 
be  hideous  buildings  everywhere ;  but  apropos  of  them  the 
best  in  London  are  St.  Dunstan's ;  St.  Mary  Woolnoth ;  St. 
Mary-le-Bow,  by  Sir  C.  Wren;  St.  Marti n's-in-the-Fields  (I 
think  was  built  by  Gibbs,  and  is  a  beautiful  building,  though 
it  has  been  the  origin  of  all  the  steeples  straddling  over 
pediments);  St.  Luke's,  Chelsea.  These  I  can  speak  with 
great  certainty  of,  but  as  I  am  away  from  books  and  every 
thing  else,  I  will  tax  my  memory  no  further. 

3.  A  few  words  in  conclusion,  as  speakers  always  say.     I 
am  tired,  I  am  earnest  to  go  to  bed  as  it  is  after  10  o'clock, 
and  to  quote  the  celebrated  Kentucky  legend,  I  cannot  write 
with  my  pen,  I  won't  write  with  it,  in  fact,  I  never  had  one. 

Remember  me  most  kindly  to  your  uncle. — I  am,  yours 
most  sincerely,  BROOKE  F.  WESTCOTT. 


EDGBASTON,  31^  August  1844. 

My  dear  Louey — This  is  the  third  birthday  on  which  I 
have  had  the  pleasure  of  offering  you  my  congratulations  on 
what  the  preceding  year  had  brought  forth,  and  expressing 
my  prayers  for  your  future  success  and  happiness.  Every 
circumstance  connected  with  your  present  birthday  tends  to 
render  it  more  full  of  interest  than  any  of  those  which  have 
passed.  You  are  aware  that  it  will  be  the  last  for  some 
years  at  which  I  shall  personally  be  present,  though  I  trust 
I  may  have  reason  still  to  offer  up  the  same  prayers  for  your 
welfare,  though  at  a  distance.  I  once  thought  to  have 


always  been  with  you  at  the  anniversary  of  this  day,  but  I 
find  that  my  probable  engagements  will  render  that  quite 
impossible ;  nor  do  I  fancy  that  this  is  a  source  of  regret. 
Many  circumstances  I  really  think  render  it  desirable,  strange 
as  it  may  seem ;  for  absence  alone  can  test  a  friend's  sincerity, 
and  we  have  had  at  present  but  little  of  such  proof,  though 
I  do  not  anticipate  that  it  will  other  than  confirm  ours. 
Another  thing  on  which  I  can  speak  with  unmixed  pleasure 
is  the  fact  that  the  anniversary  of  your  birthday  happens  on 
a  Sunday.  It  will  put  an  end  to  those  festivities  so  unseason 
able  in  my  eyes  which  usually  usher  in  such  a  day.  It  is 
to  my  view  a  day  for  repentance, — a  day  for  prayer  and 
humility,  not  for  mirth,  innocent  though  it  be,  or  more 
boisterous  amusements, — a  day  on  which  we  may  reflect  on 
our  past  conduct,  weep  over  our  past  sins,  and  earnestly 
resolve  by  God's  gracious  help  to  lead  a  new  life.  There  is 
still  one  other  thing  on  which  I  wish  to  say  a  few  words — 
the  principles  contained  in  the  little  books  which  I  wish  you 
to  keep  in  my  remembrance  are  different  to  those  in  which 
you  have  been  as  yet  instructed.1  They  are  in  my  view  the 
just  exposition  of  that  Book  from  which  all  denominations 
endeavour  to  derive  their  arguments,  and  all  who  differ  from 
them  must,  I  think,  err  more  or  less — in  proportion  to  their 
difference.  I  request  you  to  ponder  them.  I  pray  that  in 
reading  them  you  may  be  guided  by  that  Spirit  Who  alone 
can  enlighten  us.  And  if  such  be  the  course  you  pursue,  I 
feel  sure  (may  I  use  the  expression  ?)  that  you  will  be  gathered 
again  to  that  Church  which  is  the  object  of  my  devotion,  in 
which  I  trust  to  employ  whatever  talent  nature  may  have  given 
me,  whatever  instruction  and  improvement  my  parents'  good 
ness  has  enabled  me  to  attain  to.  I  could,  my  dear  Louey, 
write  on  this  subject  for  ever;  you  know  my  feelings,  and  I 
imagine  that  you  can  justly  appreciate  them.  Still,  should  you 
not  see  matters  in  the  light  I  do,  though  perfect  harmony  of 
feeling  and  affection  can  never  exist,  yet  believe  me  that  I  shall 
ever  feel  a  sincere  interest  in  your  happiness  and  welfare,  both 
in  this  world  and  in  the  world  to  come.  And  ever  esteem  me 
your  most  affectionate  friend,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 

1  Miss  Whittard  had  been  brought  up  in  a  Wesleyan  home. 
VOL.  I  D 



MY  father  went  up  to  Cambridge  in  October  1844. 
He  arrived  there  in  pouring  rain,  and  with  difficulty 
discovered  his  lodgings,  which  were  at  No.  7  Jesus  Lane. 
From  his  windows  he  was  able  to  overlook  the  gardens 
of  Sidney  Sussex  College,  and,  lover  of  nature  as  he 
was,  derived  continual  refreshment  from  the  prospect. 
He  thus  describes  his  arrival  and  first  impressions  of 
Cambridge : — 

I  can  hardly  tell  you  how  funny  I  feel  in  my  new  habita 
tion.  I  have  as  yet  been  quite  a  solitary — no  one  of  my 
friends  is  yet  come  up — and  consequently  I  have  been  very 
industrious ;  and  yet  I  can  hardly  say  so,  for  my  books,  which 
I  sent  in  a  case  separately,  are  not  yet  come,  and  so  I  have 
only  a  few  to  meditate  on.  My  journey  was  not  very  pleasant, 
for  we  rode  about  thirty  miles  in  the  rain  by  coach,  and  so 
could  see  but  little  as  we  went  along,  though  I  do  not  know 
that  many  beauties  were  lost.  The  country  is  very,  very  flat ; 
though  what  I  have  seen  of  the  neighbourhood  of  Cambridge 
itself  is  much  better  than  I  had  anticipated.  The  Colleges  with 
their  gardens  render  it  very  pleasant. 

When  I  got  into  Cambridge  the  rain  was  falling  very  heavily, 
and  when  I  had  with  considerable  difficulty  procured  a  porter, 



^  m 

Kl  !«, 



'/    " 

*  v        HUf 
••®si ': 



r  i 

\  . 


I  sallied  forth  to  find  Jesus  Lane,  and,  having  lost  my  road 
several  times,  managed  to  reach  it.  Then  to  know  Mr. 
Porcher's  house — that  was  a  great  difficulty.  However,  I 
asked,  and  was  directed  to  a  little  ugly  place,  to  get  into 
which  you  descended  by  two  steps.  When  I  inquired  if  that 
was  Mr.  Porcher's,  "Yes,"  was  the  reply;  and  when  I  spoke 
about  rooms — "  Oh,  sit  down  a  moment,  and  I  will  show  them 
you,"  said  my  landlady ;  and  by  help  of  a  wretched  candle  she 
conducted  me  to  a  room  more  like  a  cellar  than  anything 
else,  badly  furnished  and  dimly  lighted,  and  told  me  that  was 
my  keeping  room.  How  I  looked  and  stared  !  And  then  I 
grumbled,  and  said  how  the  person  who  had  engaged  my 
lodgings  had  deceived  me.  She  then  said  there  was  probably 
some  mistake,  as  there  was  another  Porcher  in  the  street. 
How  my  heart  jumped  for  joy  when  I  heard  it !  Scarcely 
apologising  for  giving  such  unnecessary  trouble,  off  I  went, 
and  found  my  real  rooms,  and  they  are  very  pleasant  ones,  so 
that  I  was  not  very  dissatisfied  with  my  adventure.  Yester 
day  I  made  my  purchases,  though  I  was  shocked  at  the 
amount  I  laid  out  in  trifles — nearly  £10 — and  sallied  to  Hall 
in  cap  and  gown  at  4 ;  got  my  dinner,  and  much  enjoyed  it. 
You  cannot  imagine  what  a  splendid  place  Trinity  is.  Three 
immense  squares  of  buildings — two  Gothic  and  one  Italian — 
it  is  magnificent ;  and  then  the  Hall  itself  is  a  very  nice 
old  building  with  a  fine  roof  of  about  James  the  First's  reign 
— but  more  of  this  at  some  future  time.  I  went  again  to 
Chapel  at  6. 

His  manner  of  life  at  Cambridge  was  very  regular 
and  simple.  He  was  an  early  riser,  it  being  his  rule 
to  be  up  at  5  A.M.  After  morning  Chapel  he  took  a 
light  breakfast,  contriving  to  finish  the  meal  by  8.  He 
complained  that  breakfast  was  sometimes  a  very  long 
meal  and  wasted  much  time.  From  9  to  1 1  he  attended 
College  lectures,  and  afterwards  read  in  his  own  rooms 
until  2,  Then,  if  it  was  tolerably  fine,  he  would  go  for 
a  walk,  returning  in  time  for  dinner  in  Hall  at  about  4. 
He  attendedjChapel  again  at  6,  and  afterwards, to  use  his 


own  phrase,  worked  "  for  so  long  as  the  sleepy  god  will  let 
me."  Sometimes,  I  fear,  the  "  sleepy  god  "  was  too 
permissive  ;  for  on  one  occasion  he  entered  a  new  rule 
in  his  diary,  directing  himself  to  stop  work  at  1 2. 

On  Sundays  he  attended  Chapel  from  8  to  9.30  ;  and 
then  read  devotional  literature,  and  wrote  "one  special 
letter."  After  this  he  would  go  for  a  short  walk  until 
his  presence  was  required  at  Sunday  School  at  2.45. 
Immediately  after  School  came  his  4  o'clock  dinner  ; 
after  which  ill-timed  meal  he  would  read  until  it  was 
time  to  go  to  Church  ;  after  which  he  went  to  have  tea 
and  serious  conversation  or  Greek  Testament  reading 
with  one  of  his  friends. 

He  preferred  to  attend  Church  rather  than  the 
College  Chapel  on  Sunday  evenings,  because  he  deemed 
the  Chapel  service  to  partake  too  much  of  the  nature  of 
a  musical  performance.  Being  very  fond  of  music, 
he  seems  to  have  felt  happier  in  attending  a  church 
where  he  was  little  likely  to  receive  much  artistic 

I  have  been  unable  to  trace  anywhere  the  faintest 
indication  of  lunch  ;  but  from  later  knowledge  of  his 
habits  am  inclined  to  believe  that  he  regaled  himself 
with  a  biscuit  at  mid-day. 

His  reading  was  remarkably  wide.  He  was  fearfully 
anxious  lest  his  studies  should  be  "  selfish" — that  is,  too 
much  directed  towards  the  attainment  of  University 
honours — and  therefore  made  a  point  of  working  at 
other  subjects.  He  had  derived  from  his  father  a  great 
zeal  for  botany  and  geology,  and  while  an  undergraduate 
prepared  a  most  elaborate  botanical  catalogue.  He  col 
lected  mosses  and  ferns.  His  regular  "  grinds,"  which 
were  often  extended  far  beyond  the  customary  limits, 
were  a  continual  botanical  feast ;  while  his  love  of  archi- 


tecture  invested  every  village  church  with  interest.  He 
did  not  at  this  period  of  his  life  find  time  for  making 
many  sketches,  but  he  carefully  noted  the  architectural 
features  of  the  buildings  which  he  visited.  The  wide 
range  of  his  interests  as  an  undergraduate  is  amply 
evidenced  by  the  contents  of  his  "  special  "  letters.  He 
enlightened  his  correspondent  on  a  great  number  of 
subjects  connected  with  art  and  literature,  writing  long 
letters  on  such  topics  as  Spanish  Dramatists,  Italian 
Painters,  and  German  Literature. 

Although  my  father's  contemporaries  at  Cambridge 
were  an  unusually  brilliant  set,  he  very  decidedly  held 
his  own  among  them.  Amongst  the  men  of  his  year 
were  C.  B.  Scott,1  who  was  eventually  bracketed  first 
with  him  in  the  Classical  Tripos,  J.  E.  B.  Mayor,2  J.  LI. 
Davies,3  D.  J.  Vaughan,4  A.  Barry,5  Howson,  and  the 
Hon.  E.  H.  Stanley.6  Lord  Alwyne  Compton,  the  present 
Bishop  of  Ely,  and  E.  H.  Bickersteth,  the  late  Bishop 
of  Exeter,  were  also  his  contemporaries  and  associates. 
The  mathematicians  of  the  year  included  also  Isaac 
Todhunter,  who  was  Senior  Wrangler,  and  Charles 
Frederick  Mackenzie,  afterwards  Missionary  Bishop  in 
Central  Africa. 

His  first  University  success  was  his  election  to  the 
Battie  Scholarship  in  1846.  This  success  was  more 
than  he  had  dared  to  hope,  and  he  was  proportionately 
delighted.  It  was  characteristic  of  him  that,  on  the 
evening  of  the  day  of  the  good  news,  he  went  for  a 

1  Late  Headmaster  of  Westminster  School. 

2  Professor  of  Latin.     Formerly  University  Librarian. 

3  The  well-known  theologian,  Vicar  of  Kirkby  Lonsdale,  and  Chaplain 
in  Ordinary  to  the  King. 

4  Vicar  of  St.  Martin's,  Leicester,  and  Hon.  Canon  of  Peterborough. 

5  Canon  of  Windsor.     Formerly  Bishop  of  Sydney. 

8  Late   Earl   of  Derby.      P'ormerly   Secretary  of    State   for   Foreign 


walk  with  his  friend  Scott — who  perhaps  was  feeling 
disappointed  at  his  lack  of  success  in  the  same  ex 
amination — in  order  to  calm  his  own  joy,  and  console 
and  cheer  another.  He  at  once  wrote  to  his  father  to 
announce  the  glad  tidings  : — 

CAMBRIDGE,  3  P.M.,  Saturday  [jfA  March']. 
My  dear  Father — The  Scholarships  are  just  out. 

Craven.  Evans. 

Battie.  Westcott. 

I  can  write  no  more.  I  am  so  excited.  May  God  bless 
all  my  future  efforts  to  His  service ! 

Excuse  this  very  hasty  note.  I  will  write  to-morrow. 
— Your  most  grateful  and  affectionate  son, 


On  the  following  day,  according  to  his  promise,  he 
again  wrote  to  his  father  : — 

2nd  Sunday  in  Lent  \%tk  March},  1846. 

My  dear  Father — Though  some  little  time  has  now  elapsed, 
yet  I  fear  that  I  shall  hardly  be  able  to  write  a  note  much 
more  understandable  than  the  singular  scrawl  I  sent  yesterday ; 
but  as  I  could  not  sleep  this  morning,  I  have  dressed,  and 
will  try  my  best.  You  may  indeed  believe  me  that  when  the 
University  Marshal  appeared  in  my  room,  just  as  I  was 
reading  your  note,  yesterday  afternoon,  I  was  speechless.  I 
managed  to  find  my  last  sovereign  as  the  usual  fee,  and  he 
left  me,  and  then  I  wrote  you  the  note  I  sent,  and  soon  after 
I  heard  a  wild  noise  at  the  bottom  of  my  stairs,  and  in 
tumbled  Evans  (who  had  just  met  the  news),  and  Keary  and 
Gibson  and  Bickersteth,  the  tidings  having  reached  them  when 
returning  from  a  boat  race.  But  to  describe  the  scene  which 
followed  is  impossible  :  Evans  was  nearly  wild,  and  we  were 
all  extravagant,  I  am  afraid.  After  this  was  over  it  was  Hall 
time,  but  I  could  not  go  to  Hall,  and  only  walked  in  to  ask 


Scott  to  wander  a  little  with  me  in  the  "  Backs  "  afterwards. 
We  did,  and  then  I  grew  more  calm,  and  on  returning  home 
found  a  little  heap  of  congratulatory  notes1  from  all  my  friends, 
which  for  your  amusement  I  will  enclose — but  preserve  them, 
please.  It  so  happened  that  it  was  my  turn  to  entertain  our 
little  society,  but  of  course  no  business  was  transacted,  and  we 
spent  a  very  pleasant  evening,  but  you  may  easily  imagine  that 
I  was  not  inclined  to  find  fault. 

Having  now  sent  you  a  long  account  of  myself,  there  is 
another  far  more  pleasant  topic  which  I  must  advert  to.  It 
has  once  before  been  my  very  happy  duty  to  express  to  you 
on  the  occasion  of  a  very  trifling  success  my  deep  gratitude 
for  all  you  and  my  mother  have  done  for  me.  If  anything 
could  make  me  more  deeply  sensible  of  it,  it  is  that  peculiar 
success  which  God  has  now  been  pleased  to  grant  me ;  but 
do  not  tell  me,  as  you  then  did,  that  you  only  did  for  me 
what  you  ought,  for  I  know,  and  have  long  felt,  that  at  times 
I  have  acted  in  a  manner  perfectly  self-willed  and  ungrateful, 
and  shown  myself  unworthy  of  such  kindness  as  I  have 
experienced  from  my  dear  parents.  But  however  evil  temper 
for  the  moment  swayed  me,  you  will  not  suppose  that  my  real 
feelings  could  be  so  unnatural  as  not  to  be  entirely  sensible  of 
your  great  goodness ;  and  as  I  sincerely  trust  that  now  such  a 
change  has  been,  by  God's  grace,  wrought  in  my  character, 
that  I  shall  not  even  appear  to  be  unmindful  of  all  you  have 
done,  let  me  ask  you  to  forgive  me  all  that  is  past,  and  pray 
for  me  that  in  the  future  I  may  be  all  that  a  son  should  be  to 
you ;  and  I  will  never  cease  to  pray  that  every  blessing  may 
reward  you  and  my  mother,  and  attend  my  sister  here  and 
hereafter.  If  there  is  one  thing  in  this  examination  I  look  on 
at  all  with  pleasure,  it  is  that  I  believe  I  did  not  go  into  a  paper 
without  first  praying  that  I  might  consider  it  entirely  in  God's 
hands;  that  however  the  result  might  be  (not  that  I  had  any  idea 
of  getting  the  Scholarship,  but  I  hoped  to  do  well),  I  might  view 
it  entirely  as  His  will  and  the  best  that  could  happen.  And 
so  I  have  been  free  from  all  anxiety  and  evil  emulation,  and  I 

1  The  only  congratulatory  note  extant  runs  thus  :  "  You  are  an  ever 
lasting  trump.  We  are  all  mad  with  joy  " — followed  by  hastily  written 


trust  that  this  has  been  a  lesson  to  me  which  I  shall  long 
remember.  On  opening  my  Greek  Testament,  as  soon  after  I 
knew  the  result  as  I  could  read,  almost  the  first  words  which 
occurred  to  me,  for  I  instinctively  turned  to  that  beautiful 
Epistle  of  St.  John,  were  i  John  ii.  17.  How  applicable  the 
verse  was  is  very  clear,  nor  do  I  think  it  was  mere  chance  which 
led  me  to  do  it.  As  I  am  now  writing,  the  morning  sun  is 
beginning  to  shine  through  my  window  so  brightly  and  cheer 
fully  ;  but  I  wish  I  were  with  you,  only  for  a  few  minutes — but 
it  is  a  vain  wish.  I  will  answer  your  note  at  the  beginning  of 
the  week,  for  I  cannot  do  it  now.  I  can  do  nothing  but  marvel 
and  feel  thankful. 

In  the  same  year  my  father  won  Sir  William 
Browne's  medal  for  a  Greek  Ode.  During  the  year 
1846  he  kept  a  diary,  wherein,  as  in  his  special  letters, 
he  reveals  his  inmost  thoughts  and  feelings.  Much  of 
this  diary  is  so  intimate,  that  it  cannot  be  fully  pub 
lished,  but  it  so  faithfully  reveals  the  undergraduate 
Westcott  that  a  few  selections  are  necessary  to  give  a 
true  idea  of  the  man. 

is/  January. — Communion  in  the  morning.  How  shall  I 
account  for  a  sudden  and  strange  feeling  with  which  I  am 
filled  that  I  ought  to  retire  to  a  monastery,  or  live  in  entire 
seclusion  ?  Not  that  I  believe  the  Romish  creed — but  their 
practice  allures  me.  However,  a  life  of  general  usefulness 
and  activity  must  be  a  greater  probation  if  I  have  power  given 
me  to  overcome  its  temptations.  And  do  thou,  O  Lord, 
enable  me  to  despise  the  honours  and  glory  and  fame  of  this 
world  in  themselves,  to  seek  Thy  glory  in  every  action,  and 
aid  me  in  my  desire  to  spread  Thy  truth,  and  embrace  and 
hold  it  fast  myself,  being  preserved  from  all  wild  and  danger 
ous  errors.  For  Jesus'  sake.  Amen. 

&th  January. — Is  it  not  very  possible  that  our  social  meet 
ings  may  be  much  improved?  At  present  they  are  quite 
unchristian ;  and  they  cannot  be  neutral — any  more  than  we 
can.  Why  then  should  not  every  one  endeavour  as  far  as  he 


can  to  change  their  tone  ?  I  wish  to  do  it ;  but  how  often 
does  my  action  fall  short  from  vanity  or  carelessness  !  Help 
me,  O  Lord,  and  all  who  are  dear  to  me,  to  act  and  talk  as  in 
the  presence  of  angels  and  of  God.  How  different  then  will 
our  "  conversation  "  be  ! 

\^th  January. — Again  I  am  angry  to-day.  My  temper 
seems  almost  to  unfit  me  for  forming  any  intimate  acquaint 
ance.  It  is  so  proud,  so  unyielding,  so  self-willed,  and  all  my 
care  to  watch  over  and  check  it  seems  ineffectual.  But  I 
may  perhaps  rest  too  confidently  on  my  own  strength,  pride 
again  prompting  me.  O  Lord,  correct  me  in  this  respect, 
enable  me  by  Thy  strength  to  have  due  self-command,  to  quell 
that  pride  which  seems  dominant  in  every  action  of  mine,  to 
bear  with  the  faults  of  others,  and  correct  my  own. 

1 9/#  January. — I  leave  home  again  to-day  for  Cambridge, 
and  arrive  after  a  very  pleasant  journey,  in  spite  of  the  weather, 
having  been  enabled  to  glance  hastily  at  the  National  Gallery. 
One  cannot  but  regret  the  levity  with  which  in  many  cases  even 
sacred  subjects  are  treated--  by  Rubens,  for  instance.  But 
what  shall  describe  the  expression  of  our  Lord  in  Correggio's 
"  Ecce  Homo  "  ?  It  is  resignation  gained  only  by  a  severe 
internal  conflict,  the  pain  and  trial  of  which  (if  we  may  so 
speak  ?)  is  still  visible  in  the  melancholy  cast  of  countenance 
yet  prevailing. 

$oth  January. — How  very  comforting  are  some  of  Keble's 
hymns  !  I  owe  more  to  that  book  almost  than  to  any  other — 
certainly  that  I  have  lately  read. 

\st  February.— In.  the  evening,  walk  out  a  little  with  V.,1 
and  go  to  St.  Michael's,  i  Cor.  xiii.  A  striking  thought  is 
suggested,  that  the  fact  of  our  Lord  never  mentioning  His 
own  hope  or  faith  is  a  proof  of  His  divinity. 

tfh  February. — Our  examination  2  finishes.  O  Lord,  I 
thank  thee  that  during  the  whole  time  I  have  been  able  to 
subdue  all  evil  passions  and  envy  and  rivalry ;  which  was  not 
of  my  own  power  but  of  Thine  infinite  goodness. 

1th  February. — In  the  evening  our  society  reassembles  and 
transacts  business.  I  did  not  think  much — at  least  I  do  not 
recollect  what  I  thought ;  but  how  little  we  know  and  how 

1  D.  J.  Vaughan.  2  University  Scholarships. 


much  we  pride  ourselves  on  it !  I  feel  more  and  more  con 
scious  of  my  ignorance,  and  seem  to  know  much  less  than  I 
did  some  few  years  ago. 

%th  February. — Work  at  St.  Luke.  If  I  am  enabled— 
what  a  glorious  employment  for  one's  leisure  hours  it  would 
be  to  prepare  a  new  edition  of  the  New  Testament.  If  it 
please  God,  may  I  be  allowed  to  do  this,  and  enabled  to  do 
it  in  a  proper  spirit.  If  my  time  could  be  more  serviceably  em 
ployed,  may  I  withdraw  my  own  wishes  and  projects  cheerfully. 

igth  February. — Walk  to  Girton  with  S.1  He  gives  me 
the  advice  which  I  earnestly  desire  to  follow.  It  cannot  now 
be  my  duty  to  examine  into  deep  metaphysical  points.  .  .  . 
Why  should  I  be  anxious  to  reject  that  which  has  been  the 
stay  and  comfort  of  so  many  ?  And  yet  I  fear  that  this  is  not 
honest.  .  .  .  O  Lord,  these  things  are  indeed  too  high  for  me 
Who  shall  understand  them  ?  But  do  thou  by  Thy  Holy  Spirit 
guide  me  through  all  this  storm  of  reason  and  speculation.  .  .  . 
Look  on  all  dear  to  me  and  preserve  them  from  doubt  for  ever. 

2  %th  February. — In  the  evening  our  society  meets.  After, 
I  have  a  long  walk  with  V.  in  our  great  court,  with  the  brightly 
shining  stars  above  us,  but  gloomy,  mysterious  thoughts  in  my 
own  mind.  But  by  conversation  they  are  partly  removed, 
and  I  feel  more  and  more  confidence  in  my  declaration  of 
yesterday.  The  proof  of  our  religion  is  the  religion  itself. 

6th  March. — Enjoy  another  pleasant  and  solitary  Hall 
time  2  as  on  Wednesday,  and  trust  that  I  feel  the  advantages 
to  be  derived  from  such  a  course. 

<$th  March. — Even  to-day  I  can  hardly  realise  that  such 
success  3  has  been  given  me.  But  I  feel  that  it  will  bring  its 
trials  with  it,  and  I  trust  that  I  did  not  yield  to  a  temptation 
in  going  this  evening  to  a  supper  party  at  Evans',4  though  I 
had  resolved  not  to  go  again  to  such  a  meeting.  But  after 
thinking  much,  I  did  not  imagine  that  it  was  wrong,  for  the 
occasion  was  such  that  a  repetition  could  never  be. 

1  C.  B.  Scott. 

2  He  appears  to  have  regularly  absented  himself  from  Hall   on  the 
Wednesdays  and  Fridays  in  Lent. 

8  The  Battie  Scholarship,  yth  March. 

4  Evans,  his  old  schoolfellow,  won  the  Craven  Scholarship  at  the  same 


March.  —  Celebrate  my  success  by  a  quiet  breakfast 
with  our  Birmingham  friends.  Spend  the  evening,  as  I  delight 
to  do  on  such  days,  in  thinking  on  all  the  mercies  I  have 

6th  April.  —  My  Greek  Testament  comes  at  last  —  which  I 
trust  may  be  my  companion  for  many,  many  years  to  come. 
May  I  not  fail  to  "  remember,"  and  in  all  things  to  set  in  it  my 
greatest  treasure,  my  surest  comfort;  and  so  may  all  my 

i8M  April.  —  After  Hall  go  to  D.'s,1  and  then  make  my 
first  essay  on  the  river,  and  not  a  very  successful  one.  Tea 
with  V.,  and  we  talk  on  various  subjects  —  the  present  temper 
on  religious  things,  the  character  of  Luther,  and  the  modern 
Pantheisms.  I  feel  very  thankful  that  the  examination  2  is  all 
over,  and  less  anxious  perhaps  than  I  might  have  expected. 
May  this  arise  from  a  trust  in  God  and  not  my  carelessness 
or  indifference. 

2$rd  April.—  Elected  Scholar  of  Trinity.  Call  on  D.  In 
afternoon  go  on  the  river.  Tea  with  V.  Feel  very  thankful, 
but  perhaps  too  joyful. 

$>th  May.  —  See  Maurice's  new  lectures,  with  a  preface  on 
Development  written  apparently  with  marvellous  candour  and 
fairness,  and  free  from  all  controversial  bitterness.  He  makes 
a  remark  which  I  have  often  written  and  said,  that  the  danger 
of  our  Church  is  from  atheism,  not  Romanism.  What  a  striking 
picture  is  that  he  quotes  from  Newman  of  the  present  aspect 
of  the  Roman  Church  —  as  despised,  rejected,  persecuted  in 
public  opinion. 

2$rd  May.  —  In  evening  we  have  a  full  meeting  and  a 
discussion  on  the  provinces,  and  relative  positions  of  Faith 
and  Reason.  V.  and  S.  maintain  that  Faith  is  part  of  Reason. 
This  I  am  by  no  means  prepared  to  admit.  Nor  do  I  think 
that  reason  can  find  out  truth.  She  can  assent  to  it,  when 
discovered.  Nor  am  I  sure  that  the  "  will  "  is  not  a  separate 
faculty  —  distinct  from  Reason  ;  the  passions  are  —  and  why 
may  there  not  be  a  third  faculty  in  man  —  a  spiritual  essence  ? 

28/Vfc  May.  —  Sarcasm.  Could  an  angel  be  sarcastic  against 
sin  ?  I  maintain  the  contrary. 

1  J.  LI.  Davies.  a  College  Scholarships. 


^th  June. — Read  in  Chapel  for  the  first  time — with  a  very 
small  auditory.  May  this  be  to  me  the  commencement  of 
much  usefulness  to  the  Church,  if  it  so  please  God  ! 

\$thjune. — Mr.  Lee's  to  dinner,  to  meet  the  Cambridge 
men ;  but  am  disappointed  and  rather  cross.  No  conversa 
tion  worth  remembering.  Mr.  Lee  says  little. 

2ith  June. — Call  on  Mr.  Lee:  and  hear  that  I  have  the 
Greek  Ode  Medal.  Again  I  seem  in  danger  of  conceit,  from 
which  may  I  ever  be  preserved ! 

\2thjuly. — To-day  I  begin  Hebrew  with  a  firm  resolution, 
if  I  be  permitted  to  continue  the  study  of  it.  May  it  aid  me 
in  my  great  object,  and  help  me  more  faithfully  and  effectually 
to  discharge  whatever  duties  I  may  be  called  on  to  execute. 

26th  to  $\st  July. — Bathe  every  day.  Otherwise  do  not  go 
out.  Read  a  little  English.  Hallam's  Constitutional  History— 
cold,  unfeeling,  impartial,  truthful,  rather  inclined  to  exhibit 
human  nature  without  its  passionate  qualities ;  to  strip  men's 
actions  of  their  enthusiasm,  and  view  everything  as  the  mere 
mechanical  actions  of  political  beings. 

•$rd  to  %th  August. — Guizot's  Revolution  d1  Angleterre,  a 
very  delight  after  Carlyle's  crabbed  sentences  and  coarse 
metaphors,  and  Hallam's  heartless  accuracy  and  sarcastic 
narrative.  Compare  the  reference  to  Laud  in  each.  Guizot's 
character  seems  perfect. 

2$rd  August.  — Walk  with  Ld.  A.  C. *  Talk  over  the  prospect 
of  our  times — Guizot,  Hook's  scheme  of  education.  How 
will  the  masters  be  selected?  They  must  have  opinions. 
Why  should  the  Church  need  assistance  ?  Where  is  that  spirit 
of  self-denial  and  burning  zeal  ?  S.  to  tea.  The  critic's  life- 
is  it  justifiable  ?  Our  prospects — may  they  be  enlightened 
by  the  Holy  Spirit. 

2  ^th  October. — Feel  in  very  low  spirits  and  unwell.  In  even 
ing  meet  in  V.'s  rooms.  After  much  "  foolish  talk  "  (may  I 
not  say  so  ?),  we  discuss  some  modern  poets.  Even  Plato 
would,  I  am  sure,  have  admitted  Keble. 

2$th  October. — Walk  with  V.  Is  there  not  that  in  the 
principles  of  the  "  Evangelical  "  school  which  must  lead  to  the 
exaltation  of  the  individual  minister,  and  does  not  that  help  to 

1  Lord  Alwyne  Compton. 

j>   S 


£>     >^ 

O     J= 


o  « 

w    S 





prove  their  unsoundness  ?  If  preaching  is  the  chief  means  of 
grace,  it  must  emanate  not  from  the  church,  but  from  the 
preacher,  and  besides  placing  him  in  a  false  position,  it  places 
him  in  a  fearfully  dangerous  one. 

7th  November. — I  begin  to  feel  more  strongly  that  I  should 
be  preparing  myself  for  the  great  object  of  my  future  life.  I 
am  afraid  my  way  of  reading  here  is  too  selfish — too  much 
devoted  to  the  desire  of  gaming  transitory  honours.  I  think 
that  I  ought  now  to  accustom  myself  to  speaking  publicly, 
and  to  devote  all  my  leisure  time  to  the  study  of  the  great 
topics  which  are  agitating  our  Christian  world. 

I4//&  November.— -It  seems  to  me  that  great  things  may  be 
done  by  missionary  exertion,  and  I  am  quite  unable  to  deter 
mine  whether  the  active  mental  training  we  enjoy  here  may 
not  fit  us  well  for  such  a  duty.  I  must  seek  advice  on  this 
great  question.  It  never  before  occurred  to  me  so  forcibly. 

22nd  November. — The  question  of  Apostolical  Succession 
comes  strikingly  before  me  to-day.  Never  did  the  general 
truth  of  the  doctrine  appear  so  clear.  May  I  indeed  be  taught 
by  higher  than  human  learning  in  so  deep  a  mystery  ! 

2gth  November. — V.'s  to  tea.  We  talk  on  many  things  of 
deepest  import.  On  missionary  labours  in  India,  and  how 
far  we  should  encourage  the  hope  of  joining  in  them.  On  pre 
destination  and  providence,  and  how  far  such  subjects  are  fit 
for  us  to  discuss. 

2nd  December. — We  are  apt  here  to  encourage  the  idea  that 
promotion  and  dignity  are  the  chief  things  to  be  sought  after. 
May  I  ever  be  reminded  that  the  object  of  our  life  is  not 
personal  aggrandisement,  but  the  good  of  one's  neighbour, 
and  that  all  the  advantages  of  education  are  talents  to  be  em 
ployed  in  this  glorious  work. 

22nd  December. — Trinity  Commemoration.  Its  3ooth 
anniversary.  .  .  . 

Chapel  at  4.  Commemoration  service.  Jeremie  preaches 
— a  history  of  the  College  and  its  effects  on  literature.  .  .  . 

Dinner  at  5.30.  B.1  and  I  read  grace.  The  speeches 
very  poor.  Whewell  peculiarly  unfortunate  (except  in  spirit). 
Bishop  of  London  makes  a  singular  misapplication  of  Scrip- 

1  A.  Barry. 


ture.  Lord  Hardwicke  discusses  naval  architecture.  Sedgwick 
is  inaudible  to  me.  The  American  minister  full  of  screams 
and  gesticulations.  Macaulay  has  been  anticipated  by 
Jeremie.  Lord  Fitzwilliam  and  Vice-Chancellor  neat.  Lord 
Monteagle  too  long.  And  what,  after  all,  was  the  scene? 
One  which  we  look  forward  to,  and  back  upon,  with  deep 
pleasure,  but  which,  when  present,  is  every  way  disagreeable. 
Such  meetings  are  attended  by  our  best  men  ;  but  could  not  a 
different  character  be  given  them  ?  Might  they  not  become 
more  solemn  in  their  form  ?  For  the  attempt  I  must  admire 
our  Master.  Would  a  pagan  have  been  struck  with  awe  and 
reverence  at  such  a  meeting  ?  Would  he  have  been  affected 
as  by  a  meeting  of  early  Christians  ?  May  we  then  take  part 
in  such  festivities  ? 

2  $rd  December. — Now  the  term  is  over.  How  has  it  been 
spent?  I  trust  my  intellectual  profit  has  been  sound  and 
extensive.  I  trust  that  my  earnestness  for  higher  objects  has 
not  grown  colder.  My  faith  still  is  wavering.  I  cannot 
determine  how  much  we  must  believe ;  how  much,  in  fact,  is 
necessarily  required  of  a  member  of  the  Church. 

$\st  December. — I  cannot,  I  would  not  try  to  conceal  the 
peculiar  bent  of  my  temper.  I  am  fully  sensible  that  it  is  not 
social,  that  perhaps  it  is  little  suited  to  minister  to  others' 
happiness.  I  seem  rather  to  desire  to  be  actively  engaged  in 
some  mighty  work.  .  .  .  Should  I  try  to  derive  profit  from 
this  temper  ?  or  should  I  check  it  ?  ... 

The  past  year  has  been  marked  by  many  signal  blessings 
for  which  I  could  not  have  dared  to  hope ;  and  earnestly  I 
pray  that  I  view  them  as  I  ought,  and  that  they  make  me 
more  zealous  and  more  humble  in  future,  for  my  pride  is 
unsubdued,  and  still  I  am  harassed  by  doubt  and  disbelief, 
though  I  do  not  think  that  my  ambition  is  as  it  once  was. 
Imploring  the  same  gracious  guidance  for  me  and  all  I  love 
as  I  have  enjoyed  during  the  past  year,  let  me  close  the  record 
of  this  year  with  deep  gratitude  for  its  unnumbered  mercies. 

Westcott's  most  intimate  friends  during  his  career 
as  an  undergraduate  were  J.   Llewelyn   Davies,  C.  B. 


Scott,  and  David  J.  Vaughan.  These  four,  together 
with  W.  C.  Bromhead,  J.  E.  B.  Mayor,  and  J.  C.  Wright, 
were  the  original  members  of  an  essay-reading  club, 
which  was  started  in  May  1845,  under  the  name  of 
"The  Philological  Society."  At  a  later  date  the 
society  took  the  name  of  "  Hermes."  The  society 
met  on  Saturday  evenings  in  one  or  other  of  the 
members'  rooms,  when  a  paper  was  read,  and  a  dis 
cussion,  not  infrequently  somewhat  discursive,  ensued. 
The  following  were  the  subjects  of  papers  read  by 
my  father  : — The  Lydian  Origin  of  the  Etruscans  ;  The 
Nominative  Absolute  ;  The  Roman  Games  of  (or  at) 
Ball  ;  The  so-called  Aoristic  Use  of  the  Perfect  in 
Latin  ;  The  Funeral  Ceremonies  of  the  Romans  ;  The 
Eleatic  School  of  Philosophy  ;  The  Mythology  of  the 
Homeric  Poems  ;  The  Theology  of  Aristotle  ;  Thera- 

On  two  joyful  occasions  the  ordinary  business  ot 
the  society  at  the  weekly  meeting  was  suspended — 
the  first  being  7th  March  1846,  when  Westcott  was 
elected  to  the  "  Battie  "  Scholarship ;  the  second,  6th 
March  1847,  when  Scott  was  elected  to  the  "Pitt" 
Scholarship.  In  1847  A.  A.  Vansittart  and  J. 
Simpson  became  members  of  the  club.  At  times  the 
society's  philosophic  gravity  relaxed,  as  witnesses  the 
following  entry  in  the  minute-book  under  date  8th  May 
1848:  "Mr.  Vaughan  having  retired  to  his  rooms, 
and  Mr.  Davies  within  himself,  the  rest  of  the  society 
revived  the  Indus  trigonalis^  and  kept  it  up  for  some 
time  with  great  hilarity."  Presumably  Westcott  took 
his  share  in  this  hilarious  revival,  though  it  did  not 
form  part  of  the  discussion  on  his  paper  concerning 
Roman  Games  of  (or  at)  Ball. 

1  A  Roman  game  of  ball. 


The  last  recorded  meeting  of  the  society  took  place 
on  I  5th  May  1848.  On  that  occasion  the  character  of 
Theramenes  was  discussed  in  Westcott's  rooms.  Before 
separating  for  the  evening  the  society  chose  the  char 
acter  of  Philopcemen  as  the  "  next  topic  of  discussion." 
So  ends  the  minute-book.  Whether  the  society 
survived  to  discuss  the  character  of  Philopoemen  or 
not  is  not  apparent.  Probably  not,  for  the  four 
faithful  members  of  the  club  had  now  graduated. 
There  is  an  entry  in  the  minute-book  which  indicates 
that  in  March  the  end  was  near.  Above  the  initials 
B.  F.  W.  occur  these  words  :  "  Let  me  here  offer  my 
heartfelt  tribute  to  a  society  from  which  I  have  derived 
great  pleasure,  and,  I  trust,  the  deepest  good — not 
least  under  the  feelings  of  to-day."  The  subject  that 
evening  had  been  "The  Condition  of  Women  at  Rome  "; 
but  the  discussion  had  wandered  over  a  wide  field, 
and,  in  its  latest  stages,  was  concerned  with  a  com 
parison  of  Plato  and  Aristotle. 

In  1847  my  father  won  the  Members'  Prize  for  Latin 
Essay,  and  the  Greek  Ode  Medal  for  the  second  time. 
He  had  on  this  occasion  the  honour  of  reciting  his 
Greek  Ode  before  Queen  Victoria,  and  of  receiving  his 
medal  from  the  hand  of  Prince  Albert,  the  newly- 
installed  Chancellor  of  the  University.  He  narrates 
his  experiences  of  the  great  day  in  one  of  his  "special" 
letters  :— 

I  managed  to  get  through  on  Tuesday  far  better  than  I 
expected,  and  walked  backwards  from  the  Queen  and  Prince, 
after  receiving  my  medal  from  him,  with  tolerable  facility. 
We  had  a  very  nice  place  just  below  the  royal  party,  so  that 
I  saw  as  much  of  her  as  I  chose.  She  seemed  in  a  very 
good  temper,  and  could  not  but  be  extremely  pleased  at  her 
reception.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  performance  of  the 


Installation  Ode,  the  National  Anthem  was  called  for,  and 
every  one,  even  the  Prince,  heartily  joined  in  the  chorus, 
which  terminated  in  a  universal  cheer,  the  whole  effect  being 
as  fine  as  anything  I  ever  witnessed.  The  Queen  bowed 
several  times,  and  then  she  left  the  room.  I  was  greatly 
pleased  with  the  spectacle,  and  equally  so  with  a  horti 
cultural  fete  in  the  afternoon  which  the  Queen  attended. 
This  was  the  sum  of  my  gaiety.  I  went  neither  to  the 
concert  nor  to  the  breakfast.  Our  court  has  presented  a 
most  animated  scene  for  the  last  few  days.  A  troop  of  Life 
Guards  have  been  on  duty  in  it  in  their  splendid  uniforms, 
and  from  time  to  time  the  royal  carriages  have  been  bowling 
in  and  out  \  while  the  grass  was  covered  with  ladies  and 
M.A.'s  intermixed  with  doctors  in  their  scarlet  robes,  and 
bishops,  and  generals  in  all  kinds  of  uniform,  and  dukes  and 
princes.  But  though  it  has  been  very  gay  and  beautiful,  I 
am  extremely  glad  that  it  is  over.  I  think  you  would  have 
enjoyed  it,  and  I  wish  now  I  had  not  dissuaded  my  mother 
from  coming,  but  I  must  not  tell  her  so.  It  would  have 
been  impossible  to  get  into  the  Senate  House  on  Tuesday, — 
nearly  a  thousand  ladies  were  disappointed.  But  everything 
else  far  exceeded  my  anticipation,  and  was  alone  sufficient  to 
repay  any  one  for  coming  up.  When  the  Prince  presented 
the  address  to  the  Queen  in  our  Hall,  he  had  to  retire  back 
ward  from  the  Queen  out  of  the  room,  which  seemed  to  cause 
her  infinite  amusement,  for  from  time  to  time  she  laughed 
heartily.  He  preserved  his  gravity  with  wonderful  skill,  and 
she  only  "  looked  a  little  smile  "  when  she  said,  in  reply  to 
the  address,  that  "  she  quite  approved  of  the  choice  of  the 
Chancellor  by  the  University."  Her  voice  is  clear  enough, 
but  not  strong.  Have  I  sent  enough  gossip  ? 

My  father  devoted  great  pains  to  his  work  as  a 
Sunday  School  teacher.  It  tried  him  very  much,  and 
he  seems  not  to  have  been  able  to  obtain  much  help 
from  others.  On  one  occasion  he  attended  a  meeting 
of  the  teachers  of  the  Jesus  Lane  Sunday  School  ;  but 
his  experience  there  was  not  happy,  and  he  decided 
that  he  would  not  go  again.  He  writes  of  it : — 

VOL.  I  E 



1  was  extremely  disappointed  with  our  teachers'  meeting, 
for  although  in  theory  the  plan  is  very  good,  and  novel  too, 
if  I  may  judge  from  such  small  experience,  it  does  not  work 
well.      However,  a  large  party  of  us  met  in  the  secretary's 
rooms,  and,  as  you  may  well  imagine,  we  were  a  very  motley 
group,  both  in  appearance  and  still  more   in  pursuits   and 
standing.     But  this  was  perhaps  an  advantage.     Well,  after 
some  time  the  curate  came,  and  after  a  short  prayer  we  pro 
ceeded,    or    rather    should    have    done  so,    to    consider  the 
simplest    method    of    communicating    the    doctrine    of    the 
Atonement  to  children,  which  subject  had  been  previously 
announced    in    a    circular  sent    to    each    teacher.       Several 
observations  of  sufficient  simplicity  were  made  by  different 
persons   present,  but   there  was   no  earnestness,  no  life,  no 
spirit  in  the  whole.     They  seemed  as  if  they  wished  to  say 
something,  but  there  was  no  feeling ;  and  all  sorts  of  singular 
objections  which  children  might  make  were  suggested,  as  if 
a  child's  first  duty  were  not  simple-hearted  obedience. 

The  following  are  extracts  from  the  diary  for 

ist  January. — Talk  with  <1>  about  my  future  course  of  life. 
A  schoolmaster  or  a  clergyman  ?  I  am  fearful,  if  once  I 
embrace  the  former  profession,  I  shall  be  again  absorbed 
in  all  the  schemes  of  ambition  and  selfish  distinction  which 
used  continually  to  haunt  me ;  and  yet  I  think  the  discipline 
as  well  as  the  leisure  which  such  a  life  affords  would  be 
immensely  useful  in  relation  to  my  after  duties,  if  my  life  and 
health  be  spared. 

%th  January. — Faraday's  Light  experiments  ;  but  far,  far 
more  interesting  is  that  brief  account  of  the  London  poor  and 
"ragged  schools."  What  a  prospect  is  there  before  us!  I 
cannot  tell  how  best  to  view  it — how  most  efficiently  to  take 
part  in  the  duties  it  unfolds. 

2  \th  January. — Sermons  for  the  organist  and  choir.     Such 
collections  should  shame  us  from  the  necessity  thereby  ac 
knowledged    of  having    persons    paid    to  perform   our-  own 
duties  at  church. 


2$th  February.  —  To-day  I  go  to  see  a  boat  race.  This 
day  last  year  I  would  not  go,  and  I  think  I  did  well  ;  to-day 
I  do  not  fancy  I  did  wrong.  I  did  not  feel  any  excitement 
or  any  danger,  while  the  change  might  do  me  much  good. 

\^th  March.  —  V.  to  tea.  Keble  —  Wordsworth  —  Goethe. 
Is  not  the  first  the  true  poet  :  the  second  a  poet  who  felt 
he  had  a  mission  to  perform,  but  commenced  from  nature 
instead  of  from  revelation  :  the  third,  a  sad  example  of 
those  who  "  though  they  might  half  heaven  reveal,  by  idol 
hymns  profane  the  sacred,  soul-enthralling  strain  "  ? 

i  $th  April.  —  Walk  with  V.  Education  scheme.  Colonies. 
Why  not  the  old  principle  of  a  religious  connection  between 
the  mother  state  and  its  settlements?  How  disgracefully 
have  we  neglected  to  regard  colonies  as  claimants  of  religious 
guidance  at  our  hands  ;  or  as  being  anything  more  than  a 
device  to  remove  to  our  antipodes  troublesome  paupers. 

$oth  April.  —  After  a  very  hard  day's  work,  send  in  a  Latin 
Essay  and  Greek  Ode.  Am  disappointed  at  not  being  able 
to  write  for  the  Epigrams.  Yet  no  doubt  it  is  all  for  the 

2$rd  May.  —  I  have  another  success  to  be  thankful  for. 
How  many  I  have  already  enjoyed  !  May  I  feel  more  and 
more  the  truth  of  the  motto  I  would  adopt  —  Gal.  v.  26.1  I 
have  never  experienced  more  pleasure  than  in  reading  Butler 
again.  I  trust  he  has  entirely  dissipated  my  chief  doubts. 
The  few  which  still  remain  may  be  removed  by  greater 
earnestness  and  prayerfulness,  I  trust.  May  I  be  enabled 
before  I  decide  on  entering  the  Church,  to  fully  believe  and 
heartily  conform  to  her  teaching. 

z^th  June.  —  Dr.  Kloss  at  Town  Hall.  The  most 
glorious  performance  of  the  kind  I  ever  heard.  Bach's  fugue. 
BACH.  A  motet  of  Kloss'.  Splendidly  conducted. 
Such  taste  ;  such  feeling.  We  were  all  delighted.  To-day  I 
hear  of  another  success  to  be  thankful  for,  the  First  Mem- 
•bers'  Prize,  which  will  enable  me  to  have  many  new  books. 

\st  August.  —  Form  a  plan  to  read  some  of  Eusebius. 
Finish  Pol.  ad  Phil.'2'  The  day  is  oppressively  warm.  At 

a  Kev68o!-oi  :  Let  us  not  be  vainglorious. 
2  The  Epistle  of  St.  Polycarp  to  the  Philippians. 


school  I  was  almost  tempted  to  despair  after  the  two  classes 
were  joined.  I  often  doubt  whether  we  should  undertake 
such  duties  when  we  can  but  partially  fulfil  them,  yet  I 
believe  we  must  persevere. 

nth  August. — James  i.  I  do  not  recollect  noticing  the 
second  verse  ever  before  in  the  way  I  have.  How  sincerely  do 
I  wish  that  I  could  "rejoice  in  temptation."  I  never  read 
an  account  of  a  miracle  but  I  seem  instinctively  to  feel  its 
improbability,  and  discover  some  want  of  evidence  in  the 
account  of  it.  The  day  is  extremely  warm. 

$ist  August. — Hooker.  V.S.D.  Oh,  the  weakness  of  my 
faith  compared  with  that  of  others  !  So  wild,  so  sceptical  am 
I.  I  cannot  yield.  Lord,  look  on  me  •  teach  me  Thy  truth, 
and  let  me  care  for  nothing  else  in  evil  report  and  good. 
Let  me  uphold  nothing  as  necessary,  but  only  Thy  truth. 

1 2th  September. — Blunt's  Reformation.  In  evening  Col. 
ii.  with  D.  and  S.  Oprjo-Kcia  TWV  ayyeXwv,  not  as  our  version. 
Can  it  be  seraphic,  i.e.  mystic,  worship  ? 

2$th  November. — What  shall  I  say  of  Dr.  Hampden?1 
I  read  the  articles  copied  from  his  works  by  "  Presbyter  "  (in 
the  Times),  and  in  them  find  the  development  of  the  very 
system  which  I  have  been  endeavouring  to  frame  for  myself. 
If  he  be  condemned,  what  will  become  of  me  ?  .  .  .  To  talk 
of  Arnold's  heresy  !  As  if  the  New  Testament  were  a  book  of 
definitions  !  .  .  . 

26th  November. — To-day  I  feel  singularly  low-spirited. 
How  can  I  join  our  Church  if  Hampden  and  Arnold  be 
condemned?  And  yet  I  never  can  devote  myself  to  any 
thing  else. 

31  st  December. — This  day,  I  think,  is  marked  by  a  new 
conception  of  the  great  truth.  May  I  be  enabled  more  and 
more  fully  to  realise  it.  Read  The  Princess  hastily ;  and  I 

1  Lord  John  Russell  recommended  Dr.  Hampden  for  the  vacant  see  of 
Hereford.  The  Convocation  of  Oxford  University  had  some  years  before, 
on  account  of  his  supposed  unsound  doctrine,  deprived  Dr.  Hampden, 
being  at  the  time  Regius  Professor  of  Divinity,  of  his  share  in  the 
nomination  of  select  preachers.  Great  excitement  was  caused  amongst 
churchmen  by  the  prospect  of  his  elevation  to  the  episcopate,  and  an 
attempt  was  made  to  prosecute  him  for  heresy.  This  action,  however, 
was  vetoed  by  Bishop  Wilberforce,  and  Bishop  Hampden  was  eventually 
consecrated  at  Lambeth. 


think  it  was  a  fit  and  worthy  pleasure  to  end  the  old  year 
with.  There  are  in  it  passages,  I  think,  of  exceeding  beauty. 
Hampden  is  exculpated  by  the  Bishop  of  Oxford,  and  this 
trouble  of  mine  is  over. 

In  January  1848  my  father  was  examined  for  the 
Mathematical  Tripos,  and  obtained  the  twenty-fourth 
place  among  the  Wranglers.  In  the  following  month 
came  the  Classical  Examination,  in  which  he  was 
bracketed  first  in  the  first  class  with  his  friend  Scott. 
He  subsequently  obtained  the  second  Chancellor's 
Medal  for  Classics.  The  following  are  extracts  from 
his  diary  of  1 848  : — 

i  st  January. — The  new  year  will  in  a  great  measure  decide 
my  future  external  life.  Whatever  it  may  be,  I  would  rest 
entirely  contented — may  it  only  be  such  as  will  enable  me 
to  be  most  serviceable  to  the  Church,  and  such  as  will 
tend  most  to  the  glory  of  God.  .  .  .  May  every  feeling  of 
mere  human  ambition  be  removed  from  me.  May  every  study 
and  every  work  be  conceived  and  carried  on  with  a  view  to 
that  great  end  which  is  alone  a  worthy  object  of  life. 

a   Kevo8o£oi,    aAA^Aovs    TrpoKaAoiyxei/ot,    aAA^Aois 
Let  this  be  my  motto  through  the  coming  exam., 
through  my  whole  life,  for  Jesus'  sake.     Amen. 

2nd  January. — S.  to  tea.  Stanley's  sermon  on  St.  John, 
which  I  extremely  admire,  and  yet  it  is  called  "  heresy  "  at 

At  school  to-day  I  am  almost  reduced  to  despair,  and 
what  shall  we  say  of  public  schools  in  general?  Should 
not  some  provision  be  made  for  teaching  the  social  duties — 
the  general  relations  of  society  ? 

2 1  st  January. — The  exam.2  concludes,  and  on  the  whole  I 
think  I  have  not  done  myself  justice.  Yet  I  will  not  com 

2%th  January. — The  Tripos  lists  come  out,  and  I  am  in 

1  Let  us  not  be  vainglorious,  provoking  one  another,  envying  one  another. 
2  Mathematical  Tripos. 


a  very  fair  position,  twenty-fourth.  From  the  result  I  feel 
sure  I  might  easily  have  been  eight  or  ten  places  higher.  But 
now  I  am  more  than  satisfied — and  so  will  all  at  home  be. 

\\th  February. — What  a  wretched  account  of  the  Welsh 
schools.  Again  and  again  it  arouses  my  pity.  And  what 
can  we  do  ? 

An  anecdote  in  Guardian  of  a  little  girl  buying  a  farthing's 
worth  of  pease  for  her  day's  meal.  As  many  as  forty  in  one 
morning  at  one  shop  in  St.  George's  East,  London.  And 
we Who  shall  right  the  evils  of  society  ? 

2\st  to  26th  February. — The  Classical  Exam.  I  do  very 
little  except  in  the  Senate  House.  Read  William  Tell,  which 
I  admire  excessively,  and  Eothen,  which  is  clever,  but  very 

\$th  March. — Read  Coleridge's  Confessions^  which  I  think 
exceedingly  sensible,  sometimes  eloquent;  though  they  do 
not  nearly  enter  into  many  of  the  real  difficulties.  If  I  may 
say  so,  he  believes  antecedently  too  much  for  an  investigator. 

i<)th  March. — Let  me  freely  confess  to  myself  that  I  am 
now  feeling  anxious  about  the  result  of  the  exam.  And  why  ? 
Is  it  mere  pride  ?  .  .  .  Chiefly  I  think  it  is  for  the  great  interest 
my  father  takes.  I  know  he  has  hitherto  lived  for  me,  and 
if  I  can  make  him  some  return  .  .  .  Yet  in  all  things,  in 
good  success  and  ill  success,  may  I  ever  live  wholly  for  God's 
service  and  my  fellows'  good.  Amen. 

2Qth  March. — Another  day  is  over  and  my  anxiety  is  past. 
Everything  is  as  my  fondest  wish  would  have  it.  To  be 
bracketed  with  one  with  whom  I  have  been  most  intimate 
for  my  whole  College  course — with  whom  I  have  read,  and 
with  whom  I  have  talked  on  the  highest  things,  who  was  my 
fellow  University  Scholar  and  my  fellow -teacher — is  all  I 
could  wish. 

2\st  to  2$th  March. — Am  busily  engaged  with  pupils. 

With  the  Mathematical  Tripos  of  1848  my  father's 
career  as  an  undergraduate  terminated,  as  he  took  his 
degree  immediately  afterwards,  on  2pth  January.  But 
until  he  had  passed  through  the  severer  ordeal  of  the 
Classical  Tripos  he  was  unable  to  enter  on  any  other 


manner  of  life  than  that  appropriate  to  one  still  in  statu 

The  following  interesting  description  of  him  as  an 
undergraduate  is  derived  from  one  who  was  his  intimate 
friend  in  his  early  Cambridge  days  : — 

He  had  the  intensity  which  was  always  noticed  in  him,  rather 
feminine  than  robust,  ready  at  any  moment  to  lighten  into 
vivid  looks  and  utterance.  He  held  his  own  way  with  some 
conscious  purpose,  I  believe,  of  not  becoming  a  disciple  of 
any  one.  .  .  .  There  seemed  to  be  no  subject  of  which  he 
did  not  learn  something,  and  his  whole  soul  was  in  his 
studies.  Profoundly  reverent,  affectionate,  single-minded, 
enthusiastic,  blameless,  he  seemed  to  those  who  knew  him 
an  example  of  the  purest  Christian  goodness.  Cambridge 
can  hardly  have  had  at  any  time  a  more  ideal  young  student.1 

It  was  my  father's  custom  while  at  Cambridge  to  write 
at  least  one  letter  a  week  to  Miss  Whittard,  the  lady  who 
afterwards  became  his  wife.  A  selection  from  these 
letters  is  given.  One  letter  to  his  mother  is  inserted 
in  this  series,  according  to  its  date. 

EDGBASTON,  31^  August  1845. 

My  dear  Louey 2 — It  would  not,  I  am  sure,  be  necessary  for 
me  to  write  a  long  note  to  tell  you  that  I  do  now  at  this  particular 
time  wish  you  a  continuance  of  every  happiness — you  must 
already  be  aware  of  it  without  my  telling  you  at  all.  And 
how  to  ensure  such  happiness,  "  the  Book  "  which  I  beg  you 
to  receive  in  remembrance  of  me  will  fully  teach  you,  and 
that  most  pure  and  scriptural  companion  with  which  it  is 
accompanied  will  explain  more  clearly  than  I  can  the  most 

1  Quoted  from  paper  by  Rev.  J.  Llewelyn  Davies  in  Cambridge  Review 
of  1 7th  October  1901. 

2  From  1846  onwards  my  father  always  called  my  mother  Mary.     To 
others  she  continued  to  be  Louey.     See  p.  8. 


admirable  methods  of  carrying  out  into  practice  those  rules 
which  can  alone  be  given  us  by  inspiration.  If  I  were  to 
recommend  any  one  text  for  your  particular  study,  as  con 
taining  the  whole  summary  of  a  Christian's  life,  it  would  be  the 
first  of  those  beautiful  sentences  read  in  our  Communion  Service 
— "  Let  your  light  so  shine  before  men,  that  they  may  see 
your  good  works,  and  glorify  your  Father  which  is  in  heaven." 
What  can  be  so  great  an  honour  to  poor,  frail,  sinful  mortals 
as  to  add  to  the  extent  of  God's  glory  ?  What  human  dis 
tinction  can  compare  with  this  ?  What  title,  what  reward 
shall  be  found  equal  to  that  of  being  permitted  %to  see  our 
Father's  kingdom  advanced  by  our  means  ?  May  such,  my 
dear  Louey,  be  your  happiness  and  mine — a  happiness  which 
fadeth  not,  which  cloyeth  not,  which  only  grows  brighter  and 
brighter  till  that  day  when  we  "  shall  see  God  as  he  is  " — when 
we  shall  enjoy  such  eternal  blessedness  as  no  man  knoweth. 
And  let  us  think  of  that  most  gracious  promise  we  have  to-day 
heard — "  Seek  ye  first  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  his  right- 
ness  ;  and  all  (other)  things  shall  be  added  unto  you."  That 
you  may  realise  this  ever  forms  a  part  of  my  prayers — and  I 
believe  I  may  claim  a  like  interest  in  yours.  May  God  ever 
bless  you,  my  dear  Louey. — Your  most  affectionate 


CHEAPSIDE,  LONDON,  igth  October  [1845]. 

After  writing  quite  a  volume  of  Travels  to  my  father,  my 
dear  Louey,  we  will  endeavour  to  begin  a  note  for  you,  which 
must  be  finished  after  I  have  heard  what  "  remarks "  you 
have  to  make.  With  London  generally  I  have  been  highly 
delighted,  and  to-day  I  have  been  nowhere  but  where  I 
could  go  again  with  perfect  satisfaction.  In  St.  Paul's,  where 
luckily  I  was  left  to  my  own  contemplations,  my  feelings 
were  far  different  from  what  Coleridge  says,  that  in  entering 
into  a  "Classical  Church"  he  feels  "proud  he  is  a  man." 
For  my  own  part,  I  never  felt  more  insignificant,  more  humble, 
and — shall  I  say  it,  Louey  ? — more  perplexed.  I  could  not 
help  kneeling  down,  when  the  deep  tones  of  the  organ  came 
swelling  along,  and  praying  that  I  might  be  rightly  directed 
in  my  belief;  for  how  many  are  the  difficulties  I  experience 


no  one  can  tell.  At  least  I  trust  I  am  teachable,  and  do 
sincerely  desire  to  find  the  truth,  but  I  cannot  acquiesce  in 
that  which  I  hope  is  true  without  I  am  also  convinced.  But 
we  shall  say  too  much  soon.  Do  not,  my  dear  Louey,  mistake 
me — it  is  no  unwillingness  to  believe  makes  me  speak  thus, 
no  dislike  for  our  glorious  system  of  Christianity,  but  a  sense 
of  duty  to  inquire  into  the  grounds  of  my  faith  as  to  the 
perfection  of  its  practice.  I  do  not  for  one  moment  doubt 
— but,  well,  we  will  say  no  more.  Louey,  do  you  join  your 
prayers  with  mine,  and  then  we  shall  doubtless  both  be 
directed  rightly,  one  way  or  other.  , 

You  will,  I  think,  be  pleased  to  hear  (how  sorry  I  am  that 
even  I  must  use  the  word  pleased  on  such  an  occasion)  that 
Mr.  Newman  has  formally  joined  the  Romish  Communion.  ; 
When  a  man  of  his  learning  and  practical  piety  and  long 
experience  does  such  a  thing,  may  not  one  young,  ignorant, 
and  inexperienced  doubt  ?  These  times  are  dreadful  times — 
one  need  "watch  and  pray."  Such,  then,  as  these  were  my 
thoughts  in  St.  Paul's.  In  Westminster  they  were  still 
stronger,  and  I,  even  I,  the  cold  and  unmovable,  could  have 
shed  tears,  aye,  of  bitterness,  of  helplessness — -and  yet  why 
should  we ?  "I  am  with  you  always  "  is  a  promise  we  too 
often  forget.  We  are  too  apt  not  to  consider  the  threaten- 
ings  or  promises  of  religion  as  personal  things — if  we  did  how 
different  would  our  conduct  be.  Try  to  do  so,  my  Louey, 
and  aid  me  in  doing  so  too,  and  then  we  shall  be  really 
happy.  A  Dieu. 

Wednesday  Evening. 

To  go  on  with  the  note  I  began  yesterday.  I  have  seen 
in  to-day's  paper  a  list  of  the  five  gentlemen  who  "went 
over  "  with  Mr.  Newman,  but  do  not  at  all  know  their  names. 
It  is  said  that  several  more  Oxford  men  intend  to  follow  their 
example.  Let  Oxford  boast  of  its  divinity — we  are  not  quite 
so  bad  as  this  at  Cambridge.  But  really,  my  dear  Louey,  I 
shall  soon  fill  you  with  all  my  own  gloomy  scepticism  and  doubts, 
and  we  will  therefore  not  say  more  about  this  at  present ;  for 
rarely  does  a  conversation  or  letter  pass  without  something 
of  the  kind,  and  I  cannot  but  be  aware  that  I  am  meddling 


with  what  you  do  not  feel  as  I  do — nor  can  I  hardly  wish  you 
should ;  but,  doubting  apart,  I  trust  you  do. 

To-day  I  had  a  very  pleasant  trip  to  Greenwich.  The 
day  was  beautiful,  and  the  ships  quite  amazed  me — such 
perfect  forests  of  masts — the  sight  was  indeed  wondrous ; 
and  what  a  beautiful  building  is  the  hospital.  The  only 
place  I  went  into  was  the  Painted  Hall,  which  contains  some 
very  good  pictures  and  a  few  relics,  and  then  hastened  back 
to  visit  the  British  Museum  (and  now  I  must  tell  you  that  I 
have  had  the  good  fortune  to  recover  my  pocket-book  from 
the  railway  station,  so  that  the  essay  will  still  be  able  to  be 
finished,  and  I  have  had  no  drawback  on  my  pleasure  here). 
By  the  aid  of  my  map  I  found  my  way  to  Great  Russell 
Street  admirably,  and  went  directly  through  every  other  room 
to  the  Etruscan  one,  which  is  the  very  last  of  all,  and  the 
collection  at  present  is  in  not  very  good  order — nor  very 
extensive.  Here  I  feasted  my  eyes  for  some  two  hours,  and 
then  returned  to  the  Elgin  room,  only  pausing  for  a  moment 
at  the  Rosetta  stone.  I  need  not  repeat  the  praises  that 
every  one  bestows  on  Phidias'  works,  but  the  capital  of  one 
of  the  pillars  of  the  Parthenon  did  indeed  surprise  me; 
altogether  such  works  do  make  us  think  of  the  small,  rocky, 
unfruitful  land  of  Attica,  with  its  restless,  quarrelsome, 
conceited  people,  with  almost  boundless  admiration.  After 
looking  at  this  room  and  a  few  Lydian  marbles,  it  was  4 
o'clock,  and  so  I  had  to  leave.  I  did  not  see  Dr.  Carlisle. 
He  has  not  been  to  the  Museum  for  some  time,  having  been, 
unfortunately  for  me,  very  ill ;  but  I  intend  calling  at 
Somerset  House  to-morrow.  After  leaving  the  Museum  I 
went  to  Hungerford  Bridge,  got  into  a  steam-boat,  and  paid 
id.  to  be  taken  to  London  Bridge;  and  then  I  bent  my  steps 
to  King  Street,  and  have  not  been  out  again  this  evening  for 
I  feel  rather  tired, — and  as  for  finding  society  to  amuse 
oneself  withal,  it  is  quite  a  comfort  to  escape  to  one's 

CAMBRIDGE,  i6th  November  1845. 

My  dear  Mother — If  I  recollect  rightly  this  is  your  birth 
day,  and  let  me  wish  you  many,  many  happy  returns  of  it. 
I  should  very  much  like  just  to  be  with  you  all  for  an  hour  or 


two  in  place  of  sending  a  note,  and  will  hope  to  enjoy  that 
pleasure  before  very  long ;  but  even  as  it  is,  I  have  great 
cause  to  be  very  happy,  enjoying  such  blessings  as  I  do,  and 
health  besides.  I  can  assure  you  that  every  night  and 
morning,  and  continually,  I  think  of  all  that  you  and  my  father 
have  done  for  me,  and  as  the  only  return  I  can  make,  pray 
that  I  may  not  disappoint  your  hopes,  and  that  every  other 
joy  may  be  yours.  When  I  see  the  position  in  which  I  have 
been  placed  entirely  by  your  kindness,  it  does  certainly  seem 
marvellous,  and  I  am  sure  I  shall  never  fail  to  appreciate  it, — 
for  to  repay  it  would  be  quite  impossible,  though  you  always 
tell  me  that  if  I  do  well  it  will  be  sufficient.  And  this  is  my 
only  object  and  encouragement,  for  as  far  as  my  own  desires 
are  concerned,  I  do  not  at  all  care  about  honours  of  any 
kind,  or  any  distinction,  and  I  should  be  as  well  pleased  to 
go  to  New  Zealand  or  India  as  a  missionary  as  anything  else ; 
but  then  when  I  know  the  pleasure  it  would  give  my  father 
and  you,  and  feel  all  the  advantages  which  I  enjoy,  I  know 
it  could  never  be  my  duty  not  to  avail  myself  of  them  to  the 
utmost,  for  to  say,  as  some  do,  that  university  competition  is 
inconsistent  with  the  Christian  religion  is  positively  wicked, 
and  I  hope  that  I  may  never  try  to  screen  any  carelessness 
or  idleness  by  such  an  excuse.  Having  had  all  the  privileges 
I  have,  it  is  both  my  greatest  pleasure  and  most  bounden 
duty  to  try  to  turn  them  to  a  good  use,  and  by  God's  blessing 
I  trust  I  may  be  enabled  to  do  so,  and  at  the  same  time  to 
recollect  that  the  great  opportunities  I  have  involve  equally 
great  responsibilities.  That  every  blessing  may  rest  on  you 
and  my  father,  who  have  done  and  still  do  so  much  for  me, 
more  than  reasonably  I  could  expect,  is  the  prayer  of  your 
most  affectionate  son,  BROOKE  F.  WESTCOTT. 

You  must  give  my  love  to  my  sister,  and  tell  her  I  hope 
she  is  a  good  girl,  and  getting  on  very  well  at  school. 

1st  February,  12.15  A.M.,  1846. 

You  will   say,  my  dearest  Mary,  that  I  am    beginning   a 
note  at  a  very  singular  hour,  as  St.  Mary's  is  just  striking  the 


quarter  after  midnight,  and  I  wish  I  could  for  an  hour  talk, 
or  rather  read,  or  still  better — think  with  you.  I  am  lonely. 
/,  who  delight  in  solitude,  am  lonely,  for  I  have  been  to 
rather  a  noisy  party  this  evening,  quite  against  my  will,  and 
was  truly  alone  all  the  time — and  now  I  am  lonelier.  But  I 
intend  reading  some  Keble,  which  has  been  a  great  delight 
to  me  during  the  whole  week,  and  perhaps  that  will  now  be 
better  than  filling  you  with  all  my  dark,  dark,  dark  gloomi 
ness.  Good-night,  my  Mary — shall  I  say  ?  May  God  bless 
you  ever.  Continue  ever  to  pray  that  I  may  be  directed 
rightly — as  I  feel  sure  you  do. — Yours,  12. 

Sunday  Morning^  10.30. 

I  found  my  remedy  last  night,  my  dearest  Mary,  quite 
effectual.  I  found  a  new  Hymn  (which  I  mean  I  had  previ 
ously  overlooked),  and  highly  was  I  consoled  by  it  (3rd  Sunday 
after  Trinity,  p.  152),  which  I  read  several  times,  and  then  an 
old  favourite  (6th  Sunday  after  Epiphany,  above  all,  the 
seventh  verse  and  the  last  four  lines),  and  then  I  went  to  bed 
quite  calm  and  at  rest.  And  to-day  the  sun  is  shining  into 
my  room  so  gloriously  as  I  am  writing,  that  it  is  almost  impos 
sible  not  to  be  in  good  spirits ;  and  still  sometimes  I  feel  that 
I  am  discontented,  which  surely  is  in  me  ungrateful  beyond 
measure,  who  enjoy  far  more  blessings  than  I  ever  could 
reasonably  have  hoped  for. 

Do  you  know,  that  I  am  afraid  I  shall  be  utterly  unable  in 
any  case  to  come  home  at  Easter  ?  But  what  is  much  better, 
that  I  am  almost  inclined  now  to  spend  my  long  vacation  at 
home  again;  but  that  will  very  much  depend  on  circumstances, 
and  I  hardly  like  to  look  forward  to  a  time  so  distant.  But 
however  it  is,  my  dearest  Mary,  it  is  for  the  best,  is  it  not  ? 

Our  examination  will  be  over  on  Wednesday.  I  have  not 
done  so  well  as  I  ought  to  have  done — nor  nearly — but  yet  I 
do  not  reproach  myself,  for  I  trust  it  is  not  my  own  fault,  and 
I  can  perfectly  allow  that  it  is  all  for  the  best  however  it  is. 
I  think  I  grow  less  anxious  continually,  at  any  rate  I  try  to, 
and  what  is  far  better  I  pray  to  be  enabled  to  value  nothing 
here  too  highly ;  and  if  we  do  that,  how  contented  shall  we 
ever  be,  how  peaceful,  how  happy,  in  every  case.  How  very 


selfish  a  note-writer  I  am — all  is  about  myself  nearly,  but  I  have 
little  else  to  tell  you.  What  do  you  do  with  your  class  at  the 
Sunday  School,  or  have  you  not  a  fixed  class  yet  ?  I  feel 
very  much  interested  in  your  success  there,  and  I  pray  for 
you  too.  The  duty  is  a  most  important  one,  and  a  respon 
sible  one,  and  if  we  ask  God's  blessing  on  it,  a  holy  and 
a  blessed  one  indeed  ;  I  regret  nothing  more  than  the  many 
times  when  I  engaged  in  it  relying  only  on  my  own  will  and 
power,  and  I  need  not  tell  you  that  then  I  always  failed,  and 
saw  I  failed.  And  never  did  I  experience  a  greater  delight 
than  at  an  earnest,  serious  look  of  attention  and  anxiety, 
which  often  rewarded  me  for  all  my  pains  and  disappoint 

May  God  bless  you  ever,  my  dearest  Mary,  guide  you, 
strengthen  you,  and  support  you.  And  believe  me  that  in  all 
sincerity  I  am,  your  most  affectionate  BROOKE. 

CAMBRIDGE,  ist  Sunday  in  Lent,  1846. 

You  ask  me,  my  dearest  Mary,  how  you  can  keep  the  Fast 
of  Lent.  I  do  not  think  I  can  give  you  more  advice  than  I 
did  in  my  last  note.  You  will,  I  have  no  doubt,  have  the 
opportunity  of  denying  yourself  often,  and  embrace  it ;  and  if 
you  have  any  time  for  retirement  and  meditation,  do  not 
devote  it  to  more  trifling  purposes.  But  I  am  sure  I  need 
not  tell  you  this,  for  you  will  feel  it  yourself,  and  doubtless 
have  already  practised  it.  Do  not  think  I  write  too  gravely, 
for  I  feel  very  grave  at  present,  and  yet  it  is  something  I 
would  fain  trust  of  a  holy  gravity,  and  it  may  perhaps  seem 
rather  strange  to  you,  as  you  do  not  see  me,  and  I  am  grow 
ing  quite  altered — I  am  sure  I  am.  Nay,  do  not  misinterpret 
me — I  mean  I  am  growing  more  serious,  and  duller  if  you 
please,  even  than  I  used  to  be.  But  you  will  not  mind  it  ? 
Nor  think  my  notes  less  affectionate  for  being  more  grave  ? 
But  you  ask  me,  my  dearest  Mary,  what  I  think  your  chief 
fault.  I  think  you  must  know  that  which  induces  you  most 
frequently  into  temptation,  which  most  frequently  presents 
itself  under  alluring  forms.  I  do  not  fancy  our  chiefest  enemy 
is  an  open  one,  but  one  lurking  in  the  very  depths  of  our 
hearts,  and  who,  so  far  from  being  obvious  to  others,  too 


often  escapes  our  own  notice  by  assuming  a  false  form.  Weak 
ness  and  indecision  often  elude  us  under  the  form  of  humility  ; 
and  superstition  appears  as  faith ;  bold  assurance  as  hopeful 
confidence  ;  a  want  of  personal  interest  in  religious  truth  as  an 
entire  reliance  on  God's  help.  You  will,  I  think,  see  what  I 
mean,  and  can  you  find  any  traces  of  any  similar  temper  in 
yourself?  Do  you  not,  or  shall  I  say,  have  you  not,  often 
yielded  what  you  knew  to  be  right,  or  at  least  were  not  satis 
fied  to  be  wrong,  merely  because  others,  because  I  have  wished 
you  to,  and  would  you  not  do  the  same  now  ?  Are  you  con 
scious  of  any  individual  and  personal  sense  of  Christian  truth  ? 
Do  you  think  for  yourself,  and  not  merely  receive  all  that  is 
told  you  ?  Do  you  search  the  Scriptures  to  see  if  these  things 
be  so  ?  Do  you  trust  in  God's  Holy  Spirit  to  direct  your 
search  ?  And  when  you  have  found  this  precious  pearl,  are 
you  ready  to  "  sell  all  you  have  to  possess  it "  ;  to  give  up 
every  tie  as  worthless  compared  with  that  "  blessed  hope  of 
eternal  life  "  ?  If  I  were  to  write  to  you  what  seemed  other 
than  the  spirit  of  the  New  Testament,  would  you  correct  me  ? 
And  would  you  value  my  affection  less  than  truth  ?  I  know 
the  test,  when  practically  put,  is  a  difficult  one,  my  dearest 
Mary,  but  still  I  am  sure  we  too  often  deceive  ourselves ;  our 
manner  of  life  at  present  is  too  mixed,  too  undecided  in  its 
character,  to  afford  us  any  means  of  trying  our  personal  con 
victions,  and  I  am  afraid  this  is  an  age  which  would  not  pro 
duce  many  martyrs.  Let  us  try  to  avoid  this  error,  let  us 
aid  each  other  in  our  search  after  truth,  but  let  truth  be  our 
highest  and  holiest  object,  and  may  our  sense  of  it  be  displayed 
in  a  life  of  active  and  earnest  piety — of  self-denial  and 
patience  ;  and  as  far  as  God  may  enable  us,  distinguished  by 
all  those  characteristics  so  admirably  displayed  in  the  glorious 
Epistle  for  the  day.  Do  they  not  strike  you — the  passage  in 
Chapel  seemed  quite  new  to  me,  and  I  have  read  it  through 
since — and  what  shall  we  say  ?  Certainly  the  Apostle  says 
"in  fastings,"  nor  does  he  limit  it;  indeed,  I  fear  for  our  self- 
complacent,  comfortable  religionists  (to  use  rather  an  un 
common  word) ;  but  I  do  think  we  go  on  the  principle  of 
selecting  all  we  like,  and  explaining  away  all  the  rest,  and 
then  fancying  that  we  obey  the  whole  will  of  God.  Do  you 
not  think  so  ? 


But  really,  my  dearest  Mary,  I  would  not  have  sent  you 
such  a  note  had  you  not  asked  me,  and  you  must  not  think 
anything  I  have  said  unkind  or  harsh,— nothing  could  be 
further  from  my  wish. 

I  do  not  know  the  tract  of  Bishop  Wilson's  you  mention, 
but  he  is  a  very  sincere  and  "  earnest  "  man,  and  all  he  does  is 
truly  Christian,  so  I  should  certainly  recommend  you  to  read 
his  book.  The  one  I  mentioned  was  translated  by  Dr.  Pusey, 
but  I  have  not  yet  received  it.  What  a  very  beautiful  verse 
the  last  of  Keble's  hymn  for  to-day  is, — have  you  noticed  it  ? 

I  have  no  news  to  tell  you,  but  no  doubt  is  entertained  as 
to  Evans  getting  the  Craven — not  even  a  whisper,  but  I 
expect  it  will  be  out  this  week.  And  now  I  must  finish. 
Good-bye,  and  believe  me  ever,  my  dearest  Mary,  your  most 
affectionate  BROOKE. 

2nd  Sunday  in  Lent,  1846. 

How  I  wish  I  were  with  you  all  at  Birmingham,  my  dearest 
Mary,  just  to  enjoy  your  all  receiving  such  an  unexpected 
piece  of  news ;  but  it  is  vain,  and  I  can  even  now  hardly  think 
that  the  melancholy  Brooke  (and  very  often  the  ill-tempered 
and  obstinate  too)  is  "  University  Scholar "  in  his  second 
year.  But  I  am  afraid  I  am  rather  rejoicing  in  an  unseemly 
manner,  and  we  will  say  good-bye  to  such  words.  Your  note, 
which  came  to  me  just  as  the  tidings  of  my  success,  in  a  great 
degree  removes  my  objections  against  your  last,  and  I  am 
pleased  that  you  have  yourself  corrected  what  seemed  to  me 
wrong.  But  what  am  I  writing  about  ?  I  am  not  even  yet 
quite  settled ;  it  is  wondrous — it  is  too  much.  But  you  will 
perfectly  appreciate  my  feelings,  I  am  sure,  do  you  not,  Mary  ? 
In  reading  my  Wilson  last  night,  many  passages  struck  me  far 
more  than  ever  before  in  the  first  part,  and  almost  the  first 
verse  I  read  in  my  Greek  Testament — and  I  am  happy  to  say 
<that  was  the  first  thing  I  did  after  hearing  the  news — was 
i  John  ii.  1 7.  Pray  that  its  important  truth  may  be  deeply 
impressed  on  my  mind.  I  am  very,  very  glad,  my  dearest 
Mary,  that  I  feel  more  humble  than  ever.  I  am  perfectly 
sure  that  this  is  entirely  God's  mercy  and  goodness,  and  no 


prize  of  my  own,  and  perhaps  He  has  given  it  me  to  try  the 
sincerity  of  those  vows  and  resolutions  I  have  lately  made. 
Pray  for  me,  my  dearest  Mary,  as  I  am  sure  you  do.  This 
Lent  I  trust  will  make  me  quite  a  new  being.  I  feel  growing 
more  "  earnest  "  and  my  thoughts  are  frequently  more  holy, 
and  I  am  trying  to  view  everything  as  a  means  to  increase 
God's  glory ;  and  let  this  be  our  united  aim — by  mutually 
aiding  each  other  the  path  will  be  easier,  and  dark  though  it 
be,  and  like  some  dreary  mountain  pass  at  first,  it  gradually 
widens  and  fair  flowers  deck  it — flowers  of  charity  and  faith 
and  love  ;  and  secret  streams  water  it — streams  of  God's  mercy 
and  grace ;  and  heaven  is  its  final  close.  "  So  let  us  pass 
through  things  temporal  as  finally  not  to  lose  the  things 
eternal."  Temporal  things  will  not  be  less  beautiful  because 
we  view  them  but  as  types  of  heavenly  ones.  They  will  not 
indeed,  my  dearest  Mary.  Surely  a  glorious  sun  shining  on  a 
landscape,  though  it  deepens  the  shadows,  yet  heightens  the 
whole  beauty ;  and  if  our  "  Sun  of  Righteousness  "  shine  over 
all  our  acts,  though  He  will  make  sin  appear  deeper,  and 
even  amusements  appear  gloomy,  how  bright  will  all  acts  of 
piety  appear !  I  think  the  metaphor  is  true.  I  cannot  write 
more,  but  you  will  pray  for  your  most  affectionate 


CAMBRIDGE,  iqtk,  i$tk  March. 

Though,  my  dearest  Mary,  it  is  much  after  midnight,  I 
feel  that  I  should  like  to  write  a  few  lines  to  you,  as  your 
note  to-day  suggested  many  ideas.  You  say  you  think  of 
me  so  often  that  you  may  be  wrong,  and  if  you  do  not  think 
of  me  as  a  weak,  a  sinful,  a  rebellious  creature  who  is  ever  in 
need  of  your  prayers — you  do,  my  dearest  Mary ;  but  if  you 
so  call  me  to  mind,  it  can  never  be  too  frequently.  Try  thus 
to  think — try  to  view  me  as  one  earnestly  trying  with  yourself 
to  find  the  truth ;  but  do  not,  Mary,  you  must  not  indeed,  set 
me  up  as  your  example,  which  I  never  had  any  idea  of  your 
doing  when  I  wrote  my  last  note.  My  own  faults  are  both 
very  many  and  very  grievous,  do  not  then  copy  my  practice, 
but  rather  compare  what  I  say  with  Holy  Scripture,  and 
if  it  agrees  with  it,  then  follow  it,  and  may  God's  blessing 


rest  on  us  both.  You  cannot  need  my  prayers  more  than 
I  need  yours,  and  that  very  childlike  faith  you  refer  to  is  that 
which  of  all  things  is  the  most  needful,  and  to  me  the  most 
difficult  to  attain  to.  I  was  thinking  to-day  when  reading 
my  Avrillon,  in  which  I  have  put  my  marker  "  Remember  me," 
that  if  you  have  any  book  you  continually  use  for  which  you 
would  make  a  marker  "  Remember  "  and  one  for  me  also,  we 
might,  each  time  this  word  comes  before  our  eyes,  offer  a 
prayer  more  particularly  each  for  the  other.  You  know  how 
fond  I  am  of  any  such  token,  and  you  will  not  be  surprised 
at  it ;  what  do  you  think  ?  I  have  a  little  Greek  Testament 
for  my  book,  and  a  "  Remember  "  would  exactly  suit  it.  But 
I  will  finish  my  note  to-morrow.  May  Holy  Angels  be  with 
you  to-night. 

Sunday  Morning. 

Before  I  go  to  play  some  chants  I  will  finish  my  note,  and 
I  have  yet  much  to  say.  You  say  you  want  me  to  advise  you 
in  many  things,  Mary.  In  what  ?  Can  you  not  at  all  tell 
me  now,  for  I  am  afraid  that  if  I  come  home  at  Easter  it  will 
not  be  for  about  six  weeks  yet — not  till  the  second  Sunday 
after  Easter,  when  if  all  be  well,  I  trust  we  may  read  that 
fine  description  of  Balaam  together  (in  Keble).  If  I  am  so 
fortunate  as  to  get  a  Scholarship,  I  will  try  every  means  to 
come  down  for  a  few  days,  for  as  it  will  be  Term  time  I  shall 
be  unable  to  do  more ;  but  we  are  sadly  anticipating,  and 
many,  many  things  may  intervene. 

I  think  in  the  Sunday  School  there  are  regular  lessons 
of  Scripture  to  read,  are  there  not,  according  to  Mr.  Dalton's 
method  ?  If  so,  you  know  I  should  be  inclined  to  lay  much 
more  stress  on  them  than  on  The  Teacher  Taught,  a  book  you 
know  which  is  far  from  being  a  favourite  of  mine,  for  the 
instruction  given  seems  first  to  be  of  a  kind  which  can  neither 
be  intelligible  or  interesting.  But  the  plan  of  breaking  up  each 
verse  into  a  number  of  questions  is  very  good,  and  if  after 
reading  any  passage  you  will  try  to  do  so,  the  result  is  very 
satisfactory,  for  it  not  only  keeps  the  children's  attention 
alive,  but  ensures  their  understanding  the  passage ;  and  you 
can  hardly  imagine  at  present  how  very  little  they  do  under 
stand,  and  what  is  worse,  how  little  they  try  to  remove  their 
VOL.  I  F 


ignorance  ',  and  these  difficulties  can  only  be  removed  by  our 
most  earnest  endeavours  made  in  the  fullest  reliance  on  God's 
help.  And  if  this  is  our  plan,  we  cannot — nay,  we  dare  not 
— doubt  our  final  success,  though  much  at  first  may  seem  to 
stand  in  our  way  to  try  our  zeal  and  sincerity.  All  the  times 
I  have  felt  that  I  did  not  do  what  I  might  have  done  at  the 
Sunday  School  were  when  I  set  about  the  duty  in  a  spirit 
of  pride  and  self-sufficiency — an  error  from  which  I  think  you 
will  be  comparatively  free.  But  I  shall  be  very  pleased  to 
hear  how  you  progress  from  time  to  time,  as  you  well  know 
what  very  great  importance  I  attach  to  our  schools ;  and  were 
I  ever  to  have  a  Parish  under  my  care,  I  think  they  would 
engage  almost  half  my  attention.  But  you  will  think  I  am 
now  indeed  looking  forward  beyond  all  bounds,  and  so  to 
scatter  all  these  castles,  pleasing  as  they  are — think  you  not 
so,  Marie  ? — I  must  bid  you  not  suffer  yourself  for  a  moment 
to  think  that  your  prayers  will  not  be  heard :  the  very 
consciousness  that  we  do  not  deserve  our  wishes  to  be 
granted  is  one  of  the  chief  grounds  on  which  God  has 
promised  to  listen  to  us;  and  have  not  your  prayers  often 
been  answered  heretofore?  I  will,  with  all  the  zeal  my 
worldly  heart  will  suffer  me,  join  ever  in  your  prayers ;  and, 
as  I  often  have,  I  again  ask  the  same  from  you  in  return,  for 
by  God's  blessing  I  already,  I  feel,  owe  much  to  you.  Let 
us  then  together  place  all  our  hopes  on  high,  and  think  not 
of  any  blessings  we  have  here  but  as  means  of  promoting 
truth  and  piety,  and  often  as  trials  of  our  own  sincerity ;  and 
so  I  trust  we  shall  never  fall,  or  if  we  do  shall  again  by  God's 
help  be  established  for  His  glory. 

Give  my  love  to  Mid,  and  tell  him  I  will  write  probably 
to-morrow,  but  my  correspondence  has  lately  been  somewhat 
extensive.  May  God  bless  you,  my  dearest  Mary. — Yours 
most  affectionately,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 

CAMBRIDGE,  Easter  Sunday^  1846. 

You  cannot  imagine,  my  dearest  Mary,  what  a  beautiful 
day  it  is,  just  such  as  an  Easter  Sunday  should  be,  after  all 
the  gloom  and  cloudy  skies  of  the  last  few  weeks ;  and  I  am 
sure  I  shall  be  tempted  to  wander  in  our  grounds,  which  are 


just  beginning  to  put  on  their  fresh  green  array  and  smile 
in  their  spring  beauty.  But  if  we  begin  to  digress  on  such 
subjects,  I  shall  have  to  tell  you  of  a  glorious  walk  I  had 
on  Good  Friday  after  Church  ;  it  was  the  first  fine  day  we  had, 
and  with  all  the  associations  connected  with  it,  it  only  wanted 
not  a  solitary  evening  in  my  rooms  to  make  it  quite  delightful. 
But  even  then  I  put  out  the  candles  and  looked,  as  I  have 
often  done,  at  the  bright  moon  shining  over  Sidney,  and 
thought  of  home  and  all  with  it,  and  how  much  I  should  like 
to  surprise  you  all ;  and  I  do  not  recollect  any  goblin  visions 
of  Scholarships  disturbing  my  reveries. 

You  have  not  told  me  for  a  long  time  how  your  Sunday 
School  is  going  on.  I  trust  you  have  not  deserted  it — nay, 
I  do  not  even  fancy  such  a  thing.  I  think  I  shall  soon  be 
able  to  join  in  one  at  Cambridge,  but  even  as  it  is  my  Sundays 
are  now  very  pleasantly  spent,  and  I  trust  not  altogether 
unprofitably.  I  think  I  shall  next  term  begin  Hebrew  again 
in  earnest,  and  then  again  I  wish  to  make  myself  a  perfect 
master  of  the  Greek  Testament  (and  I  never  "  forget " — 
can  you  say  so?).  But  if  we  continue  our  present  plan, 
perhaps  both  objects  are  compatible.  Are  you  reading  the 
i  Corinthians  now?  and  which  chapter?  Do  you  not,  my 
dearest  Marie,  feel  something  very  holy  in  to-day?  I  can 
hardly  account  for  my  own  feelings,  for  all  seems  so  cheerful 
round  me,  and  I  am  happy — I,  the  gloomy  and  stern  and 
morose  and  discontented — it  must  be  this  glorious  day,  our 
highest  holy-day.  I  read  this  morning  some  beautiful  remarks, 
one  or  two  of  which  I  would  fain  copy.  They  were  on 
"patience"  (Luke  xxi.  16-19).  Speaking  of  its  freedom  from 
the  dangers  which  beset  other  virtues,  Avrillon  says :  "In 
zeal  we  fear  that  evil  temper  and  anger  which  often  lurk 
beneath  ;  in  prayer  we  fear  distraction  ;  in  fasting,  hypocrisy; 
in  mortification,  self-will ;  in  alms,  vanity ;  in  charity,  regard 
of  man's  respect ;  but  we  fear  none  of  these  misfortunes  in 
the  exercise  of  patience."  Is  it  not  very,  very  true  ?  But 
this  patience  must  not  be  that  which  sustains  the  world  in 
furthering  their  plans  of  pride  and  ambition,  but  one  which 
teaches  us  to  bear  our  ills,  because  we  have  considered  them — 
all  and  much  more  ;  we  must  have  none  of  the  old  stoic 
self-complacency  left,  nor  consider  ourselves  as  sufferers, 


though  innocent — nay,  rather  as  being  treated  with  boundless 
compassion  and  mercy,  in  that  so  many  blessings  are  still 
left  us.  Shall  we  not  try,  my  dearest  Mary,  to  ever  more 
and  more  cultivate  this  heavenly  virtue,  for  it  is  a  truly 
Christian  one,  and  seek  to  draw  healthful  lessons  from  all  our 
troubles  ?  You  must,  Mary,  pray  for  me  continually  during 
this  week.  I  feel  how  frequently  my  thoughts  will  be  dis 
tracted,  how  often  I  shall  perhaps  feel  anger  and  impatience, 
how  prone  I  shall  be  to  forget  that  which  should  be  my  chief 
stay  and  comfort.  Pray  then  earnestly  for  me,  Mary,  and 
may  our  joint  prayers  be  blessed,  as  I  am  sure  they  have 
been  heretofore. 

It  is  now  almost   time  to  prepare  for  our  Communion 
Service,  and  I  must  therefore  finish. 

yd  Sunday  after  Easter  >  $rd  May  1846. 

Notwithstanding  Mr.  Michelet's  severe  reproof,  I  shall 
write  to  you,  my  dearest  Mary,  before  our  Communion,  which  I 
find  is  to-day,  and  think  of  you  during  it,  and  finish  my  note 
afterwards  ;  and  surely  if  there  is  any  time  when  our  spiritual 
union  should  be  closer  than  usual  it  is  then,  and  you  know 
that  no  season  can  inspire  more  solemn  or  more  holy  thoughts. 
My  journey  yesterday  was  unproductive  of  any  conversation — 
or  anything  else  remarkable.  I  again  admired  St.  Paul's  and 
looked  at  the  Thames  from  London  Bridge  with  as  much 
wonder  as  ever.  It  is  a  glorious  sight,  and  enough  to  make 
any  one  humble,  for  in  a  small  village,  or  a  small  society,  we 
are  continually  apt  to  judge  of  our  actual  merit  by  our  com 
parative  importance,  and  then  we  grow  "proud." 

It  seemed,  Mary,  very  strange  to  me  sitting  in  our  new 
seats  this  morning,  for  till  now  I  have  always  used  the  same ; 
but  I  do  not  think  I  shall  grow  "  proud,"  and  you  know  "  I 
am  not."  ...  I  intend  reading  the  Waddington  to-day,  and 
shall  begin  Hebrew  in  earnest,  and  trust  to  carry  it  on  with 
vigour, — so  much  for  our  arrangements.  And  you  must 
tell  me  how  far  you  have  gone  with  the  Gospel  of  St.  John, 
and  I  will  send  you  some  notes  when  next  I  write.  Sunday 
afternoon  our  Master  in  Chapel  gave  us  a  sermon  on  Rom. 


viii.  28  (a  verse  you  once  mentioned  to  me),  and  of  course 
he  was  eloquent  and  very  forcible, — in  both  particulars  very 
different  from  some  we  hear  who  only  preach  on  patience 
on  Herbert's  principle.  This  afternoon  I  have  heard  the 
Bishop  of  Chester  preach,  but  the  church  was  so  crowded  and 
his  manner  so  peculiar  that  I  am  afraid  I  did  not  at  all 
appreciate  his  sermon.  But  I  have  something  better  to  tell 
you.  Keble  has  published  another  work,  and  I  am  going  to 
look  through  it  this  evening.  He  calls  it  Lyra  Innocentium : 
Thoughts  in  Verse  on  Christian  Children,  their  Ways  and  their 
Privileges,  which  is  rather  a  quaint  title,  but  the  book  seems 
very  beautiful  as  far  as  I  have  seen  it, — but  I  will  tell  you 
more  when  next  I  write. 

TRINITY  COLLEGE,  qth  June  1846. 

It  was  well,  my  dearest  Mary,  that  I  began  my  note 
yesterday,  or  you  would  have  been  disappointed,  for  to-day  I 
went  out  for  a  short  ramble,  and  we  walked  and  walked  till 
we  were  far,  far  from  Cambridge — and  over  the  hills — at  a 
pretty  village,  Babraham,  of  which  I  think  I  have  told  you 
before.  It  is  still  prettier  now  than  when  I  saw  it,  for  the 
trees  are  all  out  and  the  churchyard  joins  a  beautiful  lawn 
belonging  to  a  very  fine  house  built  in  the  true  Elizabethan 
style,  and  a  finer  situation  for  a  quiet  country  village  church 
could  hardly  be  imagined.  After  that  we  went  to  the  rail 
way  station  about  two  miles  further,  and  found  a  train  had 
left  about  five  minutes  before  (being  punctual !),  and  con 
sequently  we  had  to  wait  some  time,  and  so  we  strolled  to 
the  village,  and  found  it  was  the  "  wake,"  with  all  the  display 
of  such  sweetmeats  as  village  children  cannot  resist,  and  above 
all  a  large  swing ;  but  having  ourselves  resisted  all  these 
temptations,  we  looked  at  the  church,  returned  to  the  station, 
and  started  for  Cambridge.  I  was  very  much  amused  on  our 
way  there,  for  there  was  quite  a  large  party  in  the  carriage, 
including  evidently  all  between  grandpapa  and  grandchild  of 
every  kind,  who  were  just  returning  home  after  some  long 
absence.  But  quite  the  favourite  of  the  party  was  a  little 
baby,  and  when  they  reached  home,  at  a  little  village  not  far 
from  Cambridge,  the  anxiety  with  which  they  anticipated  who 


would  meet  them,  and  the  intense  delight  with  which  they 
found  all  they  wanted,  the  great  bustle  there  was  to  find  all 
the  luggage,  the  numerous  commissions  every  one  gave  every 
one  else,  and  above  all  the  boisterous  caresses  received  by  the 
smallest  of  the  party,  were  highly  amusing;  and  after  this 
was  over,  and  the  train  left  them  behind  in  all  their  pleasure, 
nothing  more  occurred — but  that  I  am  rather  tired. 

What  will  you  say,  Mary,  to  my  writing  a  note  with  such  a 
long  description  in  it — at  any  rate,  it  is  a  change.  I  should 
have  been  very  much  delighted,  you  know,  to  have  been  at 
home  with  you  on  Monday,  but  I  can  say  all  I  should  say  quite 
as  well  perhaps  in  writing,  and  if  I  can  I  will  write  you  such 
a  note  as  I  should  on  Sunday.  Do  not  doubt,  my  dearest  Mary, 
that  I  shall  think  of  and  pray  for  you ;  it  is  a  very  important 
time,  and  I  have  often  told  you  how  much  I  regret  the 
manner  in  which  I  spent  the  day  of  my  Confirmation.  I  went 
to  the  cricket  field  afterwards,  but  I  could  not  play — I  really 
could  not ;  but  I  had  no  one  to  guide  me,  no  friend  I  mean, 
and  I  sometimes  quite  shudder  when  I  think  how  near  I  was 
to  all  that  I  now  hold  so  dreadful  and  so  ruinous.  I  think 
my  visit  to  Bristol  quite  changed  the  direction  of  my  thoughts, 
and  since  that  time  I  think  we  have  mutually  derived  much 
good,  by  God's  blessing,  from  each  other.  May  we  long,  long  do 
so,  and  may  He  still  guide  and  bless  us,  who  has  done  so  for  so 
long  a  time  ! — Believe  me  ever,  your  most  affectionate  17. 

TRINITY  COLLEGE,  Sthjune  1846. 

My  dearest  Mary — In  some  respects  I  am  sorry  that  I 
cannot  be  with  you  on  a  day  so  really  important  with  regard 
to  your  whole  future  life,  and  see  as  at  this  time  the  full 
completion  of  my  earnest  prayers  for  some  years  past  in  your 
admission  to  our  Holy  Church ;  to  converse  together  under 
such  circumstances  might  call  forth  many  new  resolutions  or 
remind  us  of  many  old  ones  which  we  have  forgotten,  it  might 
open  fresh  springs  of  charity  and  zeal,  or  uncover  those  which 
have  been  choked  by  worldly  cares  and  anxieties ;  and  yet 
even  at  such  a  season  some  interruptions  might  arise,  while 
now  in  my  College  solitude  I  can  think  of  you,  and  pray  for 


you  from  time  to  time  without  anything  disturbing  my  thoughts 
or  prayers. 

I  wished  you,  Mary,  to  have  some  slight  token  by  which 
you  might  know  that  this  day  has  not  been  unnoticed  by  me 
(which,  as  I  told  you,  by  a  singular  coincidence  is  that  of  my 
first  public  service  in  the  Church 1),  and  you  have,  I  think,  often 
admired  the  little  treatise  of  Taylor,  which  you  will  perhaps 
keep  in  memory  of  your  Confirmation. 

May  your  chief  blessing,  my  dearest  Mary,  be  a  "holy 
life  "  of  earnest  faith  and  hope  and  charity,  -and  may  we  both 
in  all  our  actions  be  guided  by  His  Holy  Spirit  "Whom  to 
know  is  life  eternal." — Your  most  affectionate 


qth  Sunday  after  Trinity ',  1846. 

I  am  now,  my  dearest  Mary,  for  the  first  time  settled 
within  the  College  walls,  and  though  my  rooms  are  rather  too 
luxuriously  furnished,  yet  they  partake  of  quite  a  sombre 
character;  the  old-fashioned  windows  and  the  magnificent 
court  and  chapel,  which  are  just  opposite,  give  them  a  far  more 
suitable  air  than  my  old  habitation  in  Jesus  Lane,  and  in 
addition  to  all  this  they  are  quite  sheltered  from  the  sun, 
which  now  is  a  very  great  comfort.  My  father  will  have  told 
you  how  near  I  was  to  having  a  very  stern  lecture  in  consequence 
of  my  non-appearance,  but  it  is  all  over  now.  This  morning  I 
have  been  reading  a  review  of  Ignatius'  letters,  which  quite 
adopts  the  contrary  view  to  that  I  have  so  often  expressed,  and 
so  I  must  read  them  again ;  and  another  on  Mr.  Newman's 
work,  which  certainly  represents  his  character  not  as  that  of 
an  earnest  and  simple  inquirer  after  truth,  as  I  had  always 
endeavoured  to  view  him,  but  rather  as  one  who  first  formed 
a  theory  of  his  own,  and  then  tried  to  mould  everything  after 
his  pattern ;  and  yet  the  writer  always  carefully  preserves  that 
Christian  charity  which  controversy  makes  us  so  often  forget. 
I  intend  this  afternoon  to  go  on  with  your  questions  and  send 
you  an  abstract  of  Beveridge's  remarks  on  the  Fifteenth  Article. 

1  He  read  the  lessons  in  Chapel  on  this  day. 


Let  me,  my  dearest  Mary,  again  impress  upon  you  the  necessity 
of  reading  all  you  read,  particularly  our  chapters,  very  carefully  ; 
be  sure  that  every  sentence  presents  to  your  mind  a  distinct 
meaning,  and  such  that  you  can  represent  clearly  in  other 
terms ;  and  recall  yet  more  frequently  all  the  steps  of  any 
argument  you  may  have  heard.  The  task  is  difficult  and 
irksome,  but  one  of  incalculable  benefit  Because  you  will 
thus  be  able  not  only  to  form  distinct  views  yourself,  but 
teach  them  to  others,  which  is  one  of  our  highest  privileges  ; 
and  it  is  of  but  little  use  if  we  keep  our  talent  wrapped  up  and 
buried,  when  there  are  the  crowds  of  poor,  ignorant,  resource- 
less,  perishing  creatures  around  us.  We  tried,  Mary,  you 
remember,  to  consider  what  would  be  the  occupation  of  a 
minister  in  a  small  parish,  and  what  must  it  be  in  such  an 
one  as  the  generality  are? — what  a  field  do  they  open  to 
labour  and  patience  and  self-denial ;  what  a  trial  are  they  to 
the  mind  and  body — one  for  which  we  (shall  I  say  so  ?)  cannot 
too  soon  arm  ourselves  now  while  there  is  yet  time,  before 
the  storm  comes,  which  many  a  "  roaring  still  and  deep " 
forebodes.  Let  us,  my  dearest  Mary,  earnestly  trust  in 
and  heartily  pray  for  the  divine  assistance  in  preparing  for 
a  work  so  great,  so  responsible,  as  that  of  teaching,  comforting, 
and  directing  our  dark  and  wandering  poor,  who  know  no 
hope,  no  heaven,  no  God.  It  is  a  serious  task,  a  dangerous 
task,  and  yet  a  very  glorious  one.  Shall  we  not  then  by  the 
aid  of  the  Holy  Spirit  embrace  it,  in  faithful  dependence  on  His 
assistance.  Think  often  on  this,  Mary,  and  very  steadfastly, 
and  picture  to  yourself  all  that  must  be  denied  in  such  a 
course,  and  be  not  as  Andrew  Steinmetz,  shocked  by  the 
vision  of  the  Cross. 

TRINITY  COLLEGE,  2nd  September  1846. 

Your  note,  my  dearest  Mary,  suggested  many  very  curious 
thoughts.  I  was  sorry  to  hear  you  had  again  been  unwell, 
and  wondered  why  you  should  be  in  bad  spirits,  and  with 
my  usual  facility  of  imagination,  conjured  up  strange  fancies 
and  fictions. 

Yesterday  I  went  to  Ely  and  had  a  glorious  day.  The 
sky  was  almost  cloudless  from  morning  till  night,  and  the 


Cathedral,  though  as  a  whole  full  of  unsightliness  and 
defects,  yet  contains  more  beautiful  details  than  I  have  ever 
seen.  Some  of  the  monuments  and  all  the  chapels  are 
splendid,  and  the  whole  is  undergoing  a  gradual  but  perfect 
repair  ;  and  much  it  needed  it,  for  there  is  not,  I  fancy,  a  single 
statue  remaining  uninjured,  unless  it  be  perhaps  a  Bishop  (!) 
whose  image  represents  him  comfortably  dozing  on  a  sofa  (!) 
or  some  such.  Really,  contrasted  with  the  good  and  holy- 
looking  men  round  them,  our  big-wigged,  fat-faced  ecclesiastics 
make  one  very  angry.  You  know,  of  course,  all  about  the 
different  styles,  etc.,  of  the  building.  The  lantern  is  made  of 
wood,  and  that  disappointed  me,  for  they  have  painted  it 
stone  colour,  which  is  a  trick  only  worthy  of  modern  times. 
I  trust  you  were  not  disappointed  at  not  receiving  a  note,  but 
I  was  not  at  home  in  time  to  write  one  satisfactorily,  and 
even  now,  as  you  may  see,  I  am  in  a  great  hurry.  But  if,  as 
I  hope,  I  shall  see  you  soon  it  will  not  matter.  Do  not  write 
to-morrow  (Friday);  wait  till  Saturday.  You  may  perhaps 
guess  my  reason.  However,  I  cannot  say  more. 

tyh  Sunday  after  Trinity,  1846. 

As  I  generally  do  before  writing  my  note  to  you,  my  dearest 
Mary,  I  have  been  reading  Keble  for  the  day,  and  though  I  do 
not  recollect  noticing  the  hymn  particularly  before,  it  now 
seems  to  me  one  of  the  most  beautiful ;  and  especially  does 
it  apply  to  those  feelings  which  I  have  so  often  described 
to  you :  that  general  sorrow  and  despair  which  we  feel  when 
we  look  at  the  state  of  things  around  us  and  try  to  picture 
the  results  which  soon  must  burst  upon  our  Church  and 
country.  "Yet  in  fallen  Israel  are  there  hearts  and  eyes," 
etc.,  and  so  let  us  still  hope  and  work,  and  faithfully  trust  in 
our  Gospel  promises,  though  our  success  may  seem  hopeless 
and  our  labour  lost,  and  though  we  may  desire  rather  to  leave 
the  world,  "the  few  poor  sheep,"  in  search  of  our  own  peace 
and  retirement,  than  tend  them  in  dangers  and  troubles. 
There  is  very  much,  Mary,  to  console  us  in  such  a  course, 
even  if  our  efforts  seem  to  fail.  I  never  regretted  having  done 
all  that  I  could  at  our  Sunday  school,  even  when  it  seemed 


in  vain,  but  I  have  often  felt  sorrow  when  inattention  or 
carelessness  had  made  me  inattentive  and  careless  too,  and  I 
am  very  glad  that  you  feel  the  same  "  earnestness  "  in  behalf 
of  our  Church  schools  as  I  do  myself.  They  are  now  of  the 
greatest  importance,  and  probably  will  soon  be  of  still  more, 
for  you  may  perhaps  have  seen  some  notice  of  Dr.  Hook's 
pamphlet  on  National  Education  (which  subject  will  soon  be 
discussed  in  Parliament).  He  proposes  as  the  only  practi 
cable  method  of  State  education  the  establishment  of  schools 
for  secular  instruction  only,  at  the  same  time  requiring  certifi 
cates  for  the  attendance  of  each  child  at  a  Sunday  school ; 
and  a  glorious  scheme  it  seems  to  me,  for  then  we  shall  hear 
no  more  of  children  leaving  us  to  go  to  the  Socinian  schools 
"  because  they  teach  writing  on  Sunday,"  as  I  have  heard 
more  than  once ;  and  having  been  regularly  taught  during  the 
week,  they  will  be  more  fitted  to  receive  instruction  in  that 
which  is  the  end  of  all  learning,  on  Sunday.  This  may  seem 
a  little  digression,  but  you  will,  I  know,  Mary,  view  it  as  I  do, 
as  a  digression  on  that  which  is  one  of  the  most  important 
instruments  we  can  employ,  and  marvellous  does  it  seem  that 
so  few  can  be  found  willing  to  take  part  in  guiding  it. 
Somewhere  there  must  be  a  fault.  I  cannot  imagine  a  School 
(if  they  had  been  blessed  with  such  a  thing)  lacking  teachers 
in  early  times.  Is  it  then  the  largeness  of  our  congregations, 
the  security  of  the  work,  the  inactivity  of  our  ministers,  which 
has  made  the  change  ?  Or  is  it  not  rather  that  while  we 
profess  religion  as  a  people,  we  lose  all  sense  of  its  individual 
value  ?  We  are  never  called  upon  to  give  up  our  faith,  and 
so  never  calculate  its  value.  We  see  no  young  Cyril  braving 
the  fire  in  his  earnest  and  simple  hope,  and  so  never  ask 
ourselves  if  we  would  do  likewise.  All  goes  smoothly  with  us, 
calmly  enough  and  pleasantly  ;  but  if  a  day  of  trial  comes — 
and  such,  Mary,  I  feel  are  coming,  days  of  fiery  and  heavy 
trial — what  will  become  of  our  nominal  church — of  ourselves  ? 
Let  us  try  to  look  thus  at  things  :  will  our  "  house  "  abide  the 
raging  of  the  storm  and  waves  ?  Let  us  pray  more  and  more 
earnestly  that,  whether  this  be  in  our  day  or  not,  such  may 
be  our  faith  and  strength  that  all  things  may  be  "vile"  when 
compared  with  this  "  hope  which  is  in  us."  Let  me  quote 
you  another  passage  from  Cromwell's  letters,  and  we 


can  and  shall,  I  trust,  apply  it  to  ourselves.  "Remind 
poor  Betty  (his  daughter)  of  the  Lord's  great  mercy ;  oh, 
desire  her  not  only  to  seek  the  Lord  in  her  necessity,  but  in 
deed  and  truth  to  turn  to  the  Lord  and  to  keep  close  to 
Him ;  and  to  take  heed  of  a  departing  heart,  and  of  being 
covered  with  worldly  vanities  and  worldly  company,  which  I 
doubt  she  is  too  subject  to.  I  earnestly  and  frequently 
pray  for  her,  and  for  him  (her  husband).  Truly  they  are 
dear  to  me,  very  dear,  and  I  am  in  fear  lest  Satan  should 
deceive  them,  knowing  how  weak  our  hearts  are,  and  how 
subtile  the  adversary  is,  and  what  way  the  deceitfulness  of 
our  hearts  and  the  vain  world  make  for  his  temptations. 
The  Lord  give  them  truth  of  heart  to  Him.  Let  them  seek 
Him  in  truth  and  they  shall  find  Him."  (April  1651.) 

You  cannot  think,  my  dearest  Mary,  how  often  I  wish  I 
was  now  working  patiently  and  earnestly  in  some  obscure 
village.  It  is,  I  know,  wrong  to  do  so,  but  still  here  I  have 
so  much  time  for  thinking,  and  get  so  deeply  perplexed  at 
times,  that  I  fear  there  can  be  no  remedy  for  me  but 
active  exertion  in  our  great  cause.  New  doubts  and  old, 
superstition  and  rationalism,  all  trouble  me  in  turn.  I 
cannot  feel  that  simplicity  and  singleness  of  faith  we  all 
should.  I  feel  too  much  interested  in  the  mere  passing 
events  of  College  life  ;  pride  influences  me,  and  mere  emu 
lation,  though  I  would  that  all  my  studies  should  be  for  no 
other  end  than  to  give  me  more  ability  to  do  God's  work. 
Pray  for  me,  Mary,  that  this  may  be  mine.  My  Hebrew  still 
goes  on  slowly  and  steadily.  Tell  me  when  you  write  if  you 
would  like  any  more  notes — and  on  what.  May  the  Holy 
Spirit  ever  guide  us  in  all  truth. — Believe  me  ever,  my  dearest 
Mary,  your  most  affectionate  BROOKE  F.  WESTCOTT. 

Thank  you  for  the  mignonette ;  I  have  no  flowers.  I 
have  sketched  the  view  from  my  windows ;  and  so  we  can 

20th  Sunday  after  Trinity ',  1846. 

1  was  quite  delighted,  my  dearest  Mary,  with  your  resolutions 
and  plans/  and  feel  quite  sure  that  to  follow  them  out  will 


give  you  the  highest  satisfaction.  And  really  one  may  be 
readily  surprised  at  the  great  things  which  may  be  effected  by 
steadiness  of  purpose  and  economy  of  time — but  I  will  not 
grow  sententious.  This  week  I  have  been  following  out  the 
intention  of  which  I  told  you,  and  it  seems  to  give  me  much 
more  satisfaction  than  when  I  could  hear  the  Chapel  bell  ring 
ing  while  I  was  preparing  for  my  evening's  work  quite  regard 
less  of  its  invitation ;  but  I  have  made  one  slight  alteration  ; 
which  is  that  on  Sunday  evenings,  when  we  have  a  full  service 
and  anthem  and  numbers  of  curious  spectators,  I  shall  go  to 
hear  Prof.  Scholefield,  whom  I  have  lately  entirely  deserted,  and 
so  I  shall  enjoy  that  which  here  one  is  apt  to  want,  the  sober 
earnestness  of  a  parish  service.  I  sincerely  hope  that  I  may 
remain  firm  in  these  resolutions.  "  Remember."  You  make 
me,  Mary,  quite  ashamed  of  my  writing ;  I  thought  it  was  bad, 
but  when  my  intention  to  express  "  M'Neile  "  is  interpreted 
"Write,"  I  am  indeed  in  despair.  He  came  to  our  Chapel 
last  night,  and  certainly  is  a  nice-looking  man,  though  I  might 
perhaps  say  more  of  a  gentleman  than  a  clergyman — you  will 
understand  my  meaning ;  but  I  have  been  thinking  and  talking 
to-day  on  the  relative  tendencies  of  the  two  great  Schools  in 
the  Church,  that  of  Oxford  and  the  one  called  Evangelical, 
the  former  laying  more  stress  on  prayer  and  the  public 
services  and  ordinances  of  the  Church,  the  latter  on  preaching  ; 
and  it  seems  quite  impossible  that  the  "  preacher  "  should  not 
absorb  the  regard  personally  which  should  be  devoted  to  the 
whole  body  of  the  Church  and  its  supreme  Head.  He  comes 
forward  to  instruct  by  his  own  eloquence  and  not  as  the  mere 
exhibitor  of  the  Church's  treasures,  and  must  needs  usurp  the 
affection  which  is  due  to  the  Head — do  you  not  think  so  ? 
And  does  it  not  seem  clearly  to  teach  us  that  in  public  we  are 
to  try  to  hide  ourselves  in  the  Church,  seeking  only  her  glory 
and  not  our  own  reputation  ;  to  strive  with  more  earnestness  to 
exhibit  her  beauties  than  to  attract  attention  to  ourselves ;  to 
attribute  all  which  is  good  in  us  to  our  spiritual  mother,  and 
assign  our  failings  not  to  her  neglect  but  to  human  weakness : 
yet  more  to  recollect  our  high  calling  as  members  of  a  glorious 
society  whose  aim  is  the  highest  in  the  world,  and  whose  fame 
is  clouded  (not  sullied)  by  our  sins,  for  whose  extension  we 


ought  to  labour,  whose  truths  we  ought  to  propagate,  whose 
glory  to  cherish  as  our  own  ?  Do  you  not  continually  feel,  my 
dearest  Marie,  that  this  must  have  been  the  spirit  of  the  first 
confessors  of  our  faith,  and  the  spirit  which  alone  can  save  us 
in  the  coming  storm  ?  Those  early  Christians  should  be  our 
continual  pattern  : 

On  these  look  long  and  well, 

Cleansing  thy  sight  by  prayer  and  faith, 

And  thou  shalt  know  what  secret  spell 
Preserves  them  in  their  living  death. 

That  hymn  of  Keble's  contains  very,  very  much.    You  have 
read  it  again  and  again  now,  I  am  sure,  and  understand  it. 

22nd  Sunday  after  Trinity  [1846]. 

What  will  you  say,  my  dearest  Mary,  if  Wheatley  is  again 
wanting? — but  I  will  try  if  I  can  send  it  you — and  yet  I 
want  to  do  some  Hebrew.  However,  you  will  not  complain 
much,  I  am  sure.  As  for  Mr.  Oldham's  meetings,  I  think 
they  are  not  good  in  their  tendency,  and  nothing  can  be  so 
bad  as  making  them  the  vehicle  of  controversy.  What  an 
exquisitely  beautiful  verse  is  that  of  Keble's,  "And  yearns 
not  her  parental  heart,"  etc.  We  seem  now  to  have  lost  all 
sense  of  pity  in  bitterness  and  ill-feeling.  Should  not  our 
arm  against  Rome  be  prayer  and  not  speeches ;  the  efforts  of 
our  inmost  heart,  and  not  the  displays  of  secular  reason? 
Are  we  anywhere  taught  to  hope  to  convince  men  by  mere 
argument  ?  Does  St.  Paul  allude  to  this  as  the  means  of  his 
success  ?  I  cannot  myself  reconcile  the  spirit  of  controversy 
and  that  of  Christian  faith.  No  two  things  seem  more 
opposed,  and  earnestly  I  pray  that  we  may  be  kept  from  its 
influence.  Many  of  our  noblest  spirits  have  become  gradually 
Absorbed  in  its  stream,  and  from  earnest,  active  ministers 
turned  to  be  shrewd,  conceited  debaters.  We  should  be 
able,  no  doubt,  to  give  answer  of  the  faith  that  is  in  us ;  we 
should  examine  accurately  the  grounds  of  our  own  belief, 
and  in  proportion  to  our  conviction  would  be  our  zeal  for 


our  neighbour,  and  our  prayers  for  his  conscientious  com 
munion  with  the  Church.  We  are  told  that  a  "  fervent 
prayer  availeth  much,"  but  is  it  anywhere  said  that  worldly 
wisdom  convinceth  ?  Do  not  these  considerations  make  us 
more  and  more  anxious  to  live  and  act  as  Christians,  without 
meddling  into  matters  of  controversy,  such  as  have  so  often 
made  shipwreck  of  men's  faith  ?  How  much  do  they  teach 
us  the  value  of  retirement  and  contemplation  !  How  they 
warn  us  to  "  go  into  a  desert  place  and  rest  awhile  "  !  I  must 
tell  you  of  a  scheme  a  friend  was  proposing  for  the  purpose 
of  rendering  our  ministers  more  efficient — and  if  you  knew 
his  character  and  standing  it  would  seem  more  weighty, — it 
was  that  after  taking  their  degrees  here  men  should  go  to 
a  kind  of  college  of  candidates  for  Holy  Orders  in  some  large 
town,  and  there  spend  two  or  three  years  in  study  and 
meditation,  in  visiting  the  poor  and  sick,  in  learning  the 
feelings  and  habits,  the  wants  and  wishes,  of  the  mass  of  the 
people  with  whom  they  would  have  to  do  afterwards.  I  do 
not  know  when  I  was  more  delighted  with  any  idea,  and  I 
hope  to  see  it  carried  into  effect  at  some  time.  What  do 
you  think  of  it?  So  many  now,  immediately  after  leaving 
the  literary  and  gay  circles  of  university  life,  with  great  zeal, 
no  doubt,  go  into  some  obscure  village  or  large  town,  and 
find  themselves  totally  lost  among  a  set  of  men  whose 
manners  and  feelings  are  to  them  utterly  strange  and  un 
known.  They  offend  by  intended  kindness  and  misdirected 
sympathy ;  they  are  unacquainted  with  many  springs  of  evil 
and  good,  and  are  unable  to  discharge  many  duties  which 
otherwise  they  might.  ...  Do  you  not  understand  the 
meaning  of  Theological  "  Development  "  ?  It  is  briefly  this, 
that  in  an  early  time  some  doctrine  is  proposed  in  a  simple 
or  obscure  form,  or  even  but  darkly  hinted  at,  which  in 
succeeding  ages,  as  the  wants  of  men's  minds  grow,  grows 
with  them — in  fact,  that  Christianity  is  always  progressive  in 
its  principles  and  doctrines.  .  .  .  What  do  you  think  of  the 
"  services  for  the  5th  of  November  "  ?  You  know,  of  course, 
that  they  were  not  proposed  by  any  ecclesiastical  authority. 
Would  you  draw  any  inference  from  that  ? 

But  I  must  finish  now.     I  have  to  write  home,  and  have 


just  written  to  a  friend  who  is  seriously  ill.      "  Remember." 
— Ever,  my  dearest  Mary,  your  most  affectionate 


P.S. — Do  you  know  when  my  mother's  birthday  is?  I 
always  forget.  Can  you  tell  me  anything  I  can  give  her? 
Do  help  me. 

TRINITY  COLLEGE,  Advent  Sunday,  1846. 

My  dearest  Mary — I  am  sure  you  will  envy  me  when  I 
tell  you  I  have  been  reading  this  morning  the  companion  to 
the  Christian  Year,  Lyra  Innocentium,  and  I  am  more 
fully  convinced  than  ever  that  Keble  has  found  the  truest 
and  noblest  end  of  poetry — to  calm  and  cheer  and  soothe 
and  train  the  mind  by  the  simple  teaching  of  nature,  and 
not  to  rouse  and  ruffle  and  excite  it  by  "dream  intense  of 
earthly  passion."  His  images,  being  chiefly  drawn  from 
children,  are  even  more  tender  and  touching  in  this  new 
book  than  in  his  former.  The  same  spirit  of  devotion  to 
the  Church,  her  doctrines  and  her  discipline,  inspires  it ;  the 
same  earnestness  and  devotion  warms  every  hymn ;  while  the 
same  charity  and  Christian  love  brightens  and  adorns  them. 
Still,  I  could  wish  that  he  had  lingered  less  around  the 
mysterious  bounds  of  faith's  darkest  visions — superstition  in 
him  I  dare  not  count  them.  Such  solemn  thoughts  and 
deep  feelings  as  they  create  may  perhaps  excite  prejudice  or 
distrust  in  minds  less  truly  harmonised  than  his  to  every 
heavenly  note.  But  I  could  not  now  spare  a  line.  They  all 
will,  I  am  sure,  teach  me  some  holy  lessons.  He  dwells 
frequently  on  that  glorious  idea  we  have  so  often  tried 
to  realise  of  "the  Communion  of  Saints."  In  one  beautiful 
hymn  he  cheers  an  elder  sister  bereft  of  her  little  charge : 

What  henceforth  if,  by  Heaven's  decree, 

She  leave  thee  not  alone, 
But  in  her  turn  prove  guide  to  thee 

In  paths  to  Angels  known  ? 

There  is  much  more  joyful  hope  which  I  would  copy  for 
you,  did  I  not  trust  that  we  shall  soon  read  the  lines  together. 


We  will  not  further  anticipate  our  pleasure.  If  we  are 
permitted,  we  may  next  Christmas  draw  fresh  comfort  and 
zeal  from  our  ancient  source. 

...  I  am  one  chapter  behind  you  in  the  Epistle,  but 
to-day  I  will  read  two.  I  shall  lay  the  error  to  your  account, 
but  it  was  a  slight  one  in  two  months.  We  shall  soon 
have  finished  the  New  Testament  again.  I  am  continually 
thankful  that  the  plan  occurred  to  us.  Every  such  memorial 
of  our  highest  duties,  amid  the  distraction  of  daily  business, 
is  invaluable,  and  I  feel  more  and  more  to  desire  to  view 
life  as  a  thing  in  earnest.  We  are  too  apt  to  talk  on  religious 
matters  but  on  the  surface,  and  to  neglect  the  personal 
meaning  of  all  we  say;  and  indeed  such  seems  to  be  the 
natural  result  of  controversy  and  discussion  :  "  light  without 
love  " — a  darker  vision  than  infidelity.  Let  us,  my  dearest 
Mary,  think  often  on  such  things — think  on  the  angel  bands 
around  us,  and  listen  to  their  heavenly  voices : 

Then  speed  we  on  our  willing  way, 
And  He  our  way  will  bless. 

Ever  your  most  affectionate  BROOKE. 

2nd  Sunday  after  Epiphany ',  1847. 

My  dearest  Mary — As  I  fancy  that  we  shall  go  out 
to-morrow,  I  will  begin  my  note  now  without  a  longer  preface. 
Yesterday  we  had  a  splendid  walk  to  the  monastery,1  going 
the  same  road  as  you  went  in  summer ;  but  now  all  the  trees 
and  hedges  are  covered  with  a  delicate  white  frost,  and  the 
*  craggy  rocks  seemed  gigantic  in  the  mist,  and  all  the  country 
looked  more  lovely  and  wild  and  un-English  than  I  have 
ever  before  seen  it.  We  went  into  the  chapel,  but  I  cannot 
say  that  I  was  so  much  pleased  with  it  as  before,  and  the 
reason  was  that  I  did  not  hear  the  solemn  chant  of  those 
unearthly  voices  which  seem  clearly  to  speak  of  watchings 
and  fastings,  and  habits  of  endurance  and  self-control  which 

1  Carmelite  settlement  at  Grace  Dieu, 


would  be  invaluable  if  society  could  reap  their  fruits ;  as  it 
was,  the  excessive  finery  and  meanness  of  the  ornaments 
seemed  ill  to  suit  the  spiritual  worship  which  we  are  told 
should  mark  the  true  church.  After  this  we  went  round  the 
cloisters  and  into  the  Refectory,  but  I  felt  less  than  ever  to 
admire  their  selfish  life.  After  leaving  the  monastery  we 
shaped  our  course  to  a  little  oratory  which  we  discovered  on 
the  summit  of  a  neighbouring  hill,  and  by  a  little  scrambling 
we  reached  it.  Fortunately  we  found  the  door  open.  It  is 
very  small,  with  one  kneeling-place ;  and  behind  a  screen 
was  a  "  Pie'ta  "  the  size  of  life  (i.e.  a  Virgin  and  dead  Christ). 
The  sculpture  was  painted,  and  such  a  group  in  such  a  place 
and  at  such  a  time  was  deeply  impressive.  I  could  not  help 
thinking  on  the  fallen  grandeur  of  the  Romish  Church,  on 
her  zeal  even  in  error,  on  her  earnestness  and  self-devotion, 
which  we  might,  with  nobler  views  and  a  purer  end,  strive  to 
imitate.  Had  I  been  alone  I  could  have  knelt  there  for 
hours.  On  leaving,  we  followed  a  path  across  beautiful  rocks 
fringed  by  firs  loaded  with  hoar-frost,  and,  passing  by  many 
a  little  deepening  glen,  came  to  the  road,  above  which  stood 
a  large  crucifix.  I  wish  it  had  been  a  cross.  I  wish 
earnestly  we  had  not  suffered  superstition  to  have  brought 
that  infamy  on  the  emblem  of  our  religion  which  persecution 
never  could  affix  to  it.  But  I  am  afraid  the  wish  is  vain. 

I  thought  I  had  spoken  to  you  of  the  fearful  distress  in 
Ireland  (and  in  parts  of  Scotland  too).  I  am  sure  you  will 
feel  as  I  do.  I  have  very  little  money  to  spare,  but  if  there 
is  any  collection  I  wish  you  would  give  five  shillings  for  me, 
and  I  will  pay  you  when  I  return ;  and  let  us  not  only  think 
of  the  temporal  wants  of  our  unfortunate  sister  isle,  but  also 
of  its  spiritual  degradation,  which  is,  I  am  sure,  closely 
connected  with  its  present  miseries.  .  .  . 

TRINITY  COLLEGE,  qth  February  1847. 

My  dearest  Mary — As  I  have  a  little  leisure  time  now, 
I  will  begin  to  fulfil  my  part  of  our  agreement  in  endeavour 
ing  to  sketch  for  you  an  outline  of  the  history  of  painting ; 
and  firstly  of  the  Italian  schools,  which  claim  our  especial 
notice  at  once  from  their  early  origin  and  unrivalled  ex- 

VOL.  I  G 


cellence.  Painting  indeed  seems  the  native  growth  of  the 
South,  where  the  sunny  landscape  not  only  shines  gloriously 
itself,  but  invites  men  to  share  in  its  joyousness.  We  shall 
have  to  observe  how  climate  influences  the  progress  of  the 
Art,  and  the  marked  character  of  the  Dutch  and  German 
schools  will  at  once  occur  to  you.  However  this  may  be,  if 
Cimabue  was  the  father  of  painting,  Raphael  was  its  prince, 
and  the  sublime  creations  of  Michael  Angelo  seem  like 
guardian  spirits  to  defend  his  throne.  In  Italy  the  first  and 
noblest  efforts  of  the  art,  as  such,  were  produced ;  not  that 
I  would  for  a  moment  wish  to  defend  the  treatment  which 
sacred  subjects  received  too  often  in  her  schools,  or  to 
maintain  that  there  is  not  a  far  nobler  object  to  pursue  than 
external  beauty.  But  we  must  be  careful  not  to  attribute 
too  much  to  individual  exertion  in  the  revival  of  painting. 
We  are  always  too  apt  to  lose  sight  of  the  onward  advance 
of  men's  minds  in  contemplating  the  triumphs  of  some 
favourite  hero.  The  gushing  torrent  will  rouse  us,  while  the 
still  deep  stream  may  roll  by  unnoticed.  Now  every  history 
tells  us  that  Cimabue  (born  at  Florence  1240;  died  about 
1302)  was  the  "father  of  modern  painting."  A  partial 
countryman  gave  him  the  title,  and  none  have  ventured  to 
impugn  it.  But  what  was  the  condition  of  the  Italian 
people  ?  The  songs  of  the  Troubadours  were  still  echoed 
abroad.  Her  nobles  had  fought  in  the  Holy  Land,  and 
while  they  ridiculed  the  effeminacy  of  Asia,  had  learnt  to 
emulate  its  luxury.  The  disorders  of  the  Eastern  empire 
had  led  many  artists  to  leave  Byzantium  and  seek  a  refuge 
in  the  West.  Dante  was  born,  we  know  (at  Florence  also), 
in  1265;  and  Petrarch,  the  contemporary  of  our  own 
Chaucer,  was  about  thirty  years  later.  Does  not  this  chain 
of  facts  already  teach  us  that  men  were  growing  more  zealous 
in  the  search  after  "the  beautiful"?  For  painting  must 
either  accompany  poetry  or  even  precede  it.  So  it  was  in 
Greece.  So  it  would  have  been  in  England  if  the  muni 
ficence  of  our  first  Charles  had  not  been  checked  by  political 
commotions.  Rubens,  you  know,  was  painting  Whitehall 
while  Milton  was  writing  L' Allegro,  and  probably  dreaming 
over  the  story  of  King  Arthur.  Cimabue  then,  so  far  from 
being  the  origin  of  Italian  art,  was  rather  the  offspring  of  the 


search  after  it.  He  employed  the  skill  of  his  Byzantine 
masters  to  gratify  a  spirit  which  he  had  not  formed,  but 
followed.  He  was  unable  to  throw  off  the  conventionalities 
of  the  Eastern  schools.  His  dark-faced  Madonnas  display 
their  origin,  and  when  looking  at  their  simple  claims  we  may 
wonder  now  how  a  whole  city  could  wait  in  eager  expecta 
tion  for  a  gaze  at  the  finished  picture,  and  bear  it  with 
triumphal  pomp  to  its  destined  position.  Yet  such  was  the 
scene  at  Florence  when  Cimabue  painted  there  600  years 
ago.  Few  of  his  works  are  left.  Oil-painting,  of  course, 
was  not  known  till  about  1440,  and  all  works  were  either 
executed  in  fresco  (i.e.  wet  cement)  or  in  "distemper"  (i.e. 
on  board,  with  colours  tempered  with  the  white  of  egg),  so 
that  there  were  few  cabinet  pictures,  and  Art  still  remained, 
what  she  ever  should  be,  the  handmaid  of  Religion.  Of 
Cimabue's  contemporaries  none  deserve  especial  notice.  We 
will  speak  of  his  pupil  Giotto  next  week.  .  .  . 

TRINITY  COLLEGE,  iztk  Ap-il  [1847]. 

I  have  scarcely  time,  my  dearest  Mary,  to  send  a  line  as 
I  promised.  You  may  fancy  me  again  hermit-like  surrounded 
by  my  books.  The  day  was  very  fine,  and  yet  there  was  a 
shower,  as  I  prophesied,  and  I  wandered  round  Peterborough 
Cathedral  for  an  hour.  There  is  a  very  nice  burial-ground 
by  it  with  yews  and  fir  trees,  which  give  the  whole  building 
a  very  solemn  aspect  from  the  North.  But  how  I  wish  you 
could  see  Ely  from  the  railroad.  The  view  is  the  finest  for 
outline  of  any  building  I  ever  saw.  I  must  try  to  sketch  it 
some  day.  Short  as  my  note  is,  I  must  say  good-bye.  God 
bless  you,  my  dearest  Mary.  "Remember."  —  Ever  your 
most  affectionate  BROOKE  F.  WESTCOTT. 

P. S. — I  will  send  an  old  note  to  make  up  for  this.  It 
is,  I  think,  an  ingenious  experiment.  12. 

TRINITY  COLLEGE,  26th  May  1847. 

.  .  .  Our  examination  begins  on  Monday  and  lasts  a 
whole  week,  but  then  it  is  the  last  of  the  kind  I  shall  under 
go.  ...  How  would  my  English  books  cry  out  if  they  could ! 


Indeed,  I  think  they  would  let  me  have  no  sleep  at  all,  and  I 
am  afraid  very  few  save  the  driest  mathematics  would  be 
silent.  Aristotle  himself  might  with  reason  murmur,  and  if 
he  could  complain,  think  of  the  flood  of  indignation  Plato 
would  pour  forth,  and  the  cold  sarcasms  of  Tacitus,  and  all 
the  other  angry  taunts  of  every  one  I  ought  to  read  and 
can't.  But  they  must  wait,  and  I  hope  after  this  exam, 
is  over  to  set  to  work  at  them  again.  There  are  very 
beautiful  things  in  Mozart's  Masses,  but  if  they  are  to  be 
viewed  as  Communion  services,  are  not  you  glad  that  our 
Church  never  adopted  anything  similar?  I  even  feel  that 
an  anthem  in  Chapel  degenerates  too  much  into  an  amuse 
ment,  and  that  we  quite  forget  the  solemnity  of  the  service ; 
so  much  so  that  I  rarely  go  when  there  is  one.  ...  I  wish 
you  could  for  an  hour  or  two  see  our  "  Backs  "  now,  or  even 
my  view  of  Sidney  Gardens.  A  large  horse-chestnut  covered 
with  blossom  is  my  central  object,  and  if  that  be  beautiful, 
only  fancy  what  our  great  chestnut  walk  at  Trinity  is. 
Particularly  when  contrasted  with  the  delicate  green  foliage 
and  dark  trunks  of  the  lime  trees.  Singularly  enough,  just  at 
the  end  of  the  avenue  is  seen  in  the  distance  a  little  village 
spire,  which  some  one  observed  is  a  proper  Fellow's 
prospect:  "a  long  road  with  a  church  at  the  end  of  it." 
It  is  rather  sad  that  such  an  end  should  be  contemplated  in 
such  a  way.  I  had  almost  forgotten  to  tell  you  that  I  have  a 
Latin  Declamation  Prize.  As  you  have  already  congratulated 
me  by  mistake,  I  will  dispense  with  it  this  time. 

Let  me  hear  better  tidings  next  time  you  write.  Play 
before  that  glorious  air  of  Beethoven's,  or  "In  Manus  Tuas," 
or  the  Larghetto  out  of  "  his  "  First  Symphony,  or  Haydn's, 
and  then  I  am  sure  you  will  need  no  other  inspiration. 
Perhaps  of  all  just  now  I  should  choose  the  one  I  have  set 
to  Heber's  "Thou  art  gone."  I  shall  very  much  like  to  hear 
that  again  with  all  your  new  improvements. 

Sunday  after  Ascension  Day,  1847. 

My  dearest  Mary — I  fancied  that  I  should  have  been 
obliged  to  alter  the  form  of  my  notes,  and  send  you  news  in 


this  one,  for  on  Thursday  night  a  fire  broke  out  in  Neville's 
Court,  which  is  the  most  precious  part  of  our  College,  con 
taining  the  library.  As  it  is  nearly  all  panelled  with  oak, 
considerable  apprehension  was  felt  that  it  would  be  entirely 
destroyed.  I  happened  to  be  in  at  the  time,  and  certainly 
the  appearance  was  very  alarming ;  but  as  engines  were  soon 
on  the  spot,  and  there  was  no  lack  either  of  water  or  men  to 
work,  we  succeeded  in  putting  the  flames  out  entirely  in 
about  an  hour  and  a  half.  My  arms  are  very  stiff  still,  for  I 
was  on  the  side  that  passed  up  full  buckets  to  the  engine, 
and  not  being  used  to  work  of  that  kind,  I  feel  its  effects  a 
little.  However,  I  was  very  glad  I  could  do  anything.  The 
damage  is  very  trifling,  nothing  more  than  the  roof  of  part  of 
the  building  is  injured  ;  and  the  College  has  issued  a  very  nice 
notice  thanking  the  University  and  town  for  their  assistance, 
and  at  the  same  time  adding  that  "  but  for  the  blessing  of 
Almighty  God  great  damage  must  have  been  done."  The 
wind  was  very  still,  and  it  rained  part  of  the  time.  You  may 
picture  to  yourself  the  scene :  long  rows  of  men  reaching 
down  to  the  river  some  hundred  yards  distant,  others  running 
about  with  lights,  others  rescuing  books,  etc.,  from  rooms  in 
danger.  The  grass  plot  reserved  for  the  Fellows'  especial 
use  was  trodden  down  by  unprivileged  undergraduates. 
Altogether  it  was  a  notable  scene,  and  I  am  glad  I  was 
present.  .  .  .  You  will  be  pleased  to  hear  of  one  alteration 
I  have  made.  I  go  to  bed  regularly  at  half-past  i  and 
am  up  at  half-past  4.  I  have  an  alarum  and  it  goes 
capitally.  .  .  . 

TRINITY  COLLEGE,  yd  June  1847. 

My  dearest  Mary — I  promised  you  a  line,  and  really  I  shall 
scarcely  write  more.  Our  examination  has  now  been  going  on 
for  three  days,  and  I  have  been  doing  myself  no  credit,  so  that 
I  do  not  feel  much  in  letter-writing  humour.  However,  I  will 
•  not  complain.  I  had  not  got  up  my  subjects  well,  but  trust 
I  had  not  been  wasting  my  time.  And  so  no  more  of  this. 
As  for  the  Greek  Ode,  it  is  the  same  prize  I  got  last  year, 
and  I  have  the  honour  (or  misery  ?)  of  reciting  before  the 
Queen  on  the  ;th  of  July,  the  Installation  Day.  .  .  .  My 


early  rising  has  lately  degenerated  to  6  o'clock.  I  have 
found  it  so  difficult  to  get  to  bed  during  the  examination ; 
but  I  will  certainly  bring  down  my  alarum  with  me,  and  then 
I  will  set  you  all  a  good  example.  I  picked  up  by  chance 
to-day  a  translation  of  Lamartine's  History  of  the  Girondists, 
and  read  in  it  an  account  of  Madame  Roland  which  pleased 
me  for  its  style  amazingly.  We  must  try  to  read  the  book 
when  I  come  down.  It  embraces  quite  the  noblest  part  of 
the  French  Revolution. 

You  flatter  my  water-colours  beyond  all  due.  The  only 
excuse  you  can  offer  is  to  do  better,  and  I  know  you  will 
soon.  But  short  as  my  note  is,  I  must  say  good-bye. — Ever 
believe  me,  my  dearest  Mary,  your  most  affectionate 


TRINITY  COLLEGE,  St.  James'  Day,  1847. 

I  have  read  very  little  this  week  except  my  usual  work. 
Vinet  still  remains  a  great  treat  when  I  have  time  to 
devote  to  him :  some  passages  I  could  now  point  out  would, 
I  am  sure,  be  sufficient  to  compensate  for  his  unpre 
possessing  exterior.  We  shall  have  all  the  excitement  of 
two  elections  next  week.  Mr.  Lee  will,  I  hope,  come  up, 
and  I  want  to  talk  to  him  about  many  things.  You  know  all 
I  mean.  Are  we  together  now  in  reading  ?  This  morning  I 
read  Amos  v.,  and  shall  begin  2  Peter  this  evening.  How 
strange  it  seems  in  reading  the  later  Prophets  to  find  so  few 
allusions  to  the  Messiah :  all  seems  to  be  lost  in  the  con 
templation  of  the  present  sin  and  immediate  punishment  of 
the  Jewish  race.  I  should  like  to  see  this  question — I  mean 
of  the  relation  of  these  prophets  to  the  two  dispensations — 
fully  considered,  and  their  case  for  us  clearly  explained. 

I  hope  your  botanical  researches  will  go  on  well,  and 
you  may  amuse  yourself  with  trying  accurately  to  describe 
all  the  churches  you  see.  Try  if  you  can  name  and  describe 
every  little  part,  if  you  can  recognise  any  moulding,  and  so 
forth,  and  if  you  please  you  may  send  me  the  result  of  your 
inquiries,  and  I  will  see  whether  they  give  me  any  clear 

Do  you  know  Keble  for  St.  James'  Day  ?     If  not,  read  it, 


Marie;  I  hope  at  some  time  to  be  able  to  have  the  last 
verse  and  half  sung — even  in  Church  it  may  be.  All  the 
time  I  was  at  home  we  never  sung  his  Evening  Hymn.  I 
often  thought  of  it ;  we  must  try  to  improve  in  this  particular. 
My  father  sent  me  such  a  letter  the  other  day,  three  whole 
sheets ;  he  never  sent  such  a  one  before,  and  you  see  I  must 
tell  you.  I  hope  we  shall  never  break  through  the  good  rule 
we  began  at  home,  and  won't  you  try  something  of  the  same 

You  ask  for  a  subject  for  Tuesday,  but  I  know  you  will 
find  one,  and  I  do  not  want  merely  an  essay :  tell  me  what 
you  think  or  feel  or  do.  And  now,  my  dearest  Mary,  I  must 
say  good-bye,  and  "remember,"  for  I  have  no  little  flower  to 
speak  for  me. — Believe  me  ever,  your  most  affectionate 


I  forgot  to  tell  you  my  hours ;  yours,  by  the  way,  are  very 
good  ones.  I  am  in  bed  by  n  and  up  by  5,  and  all  goes 
on  very  pleasantly  in  that  respect. 

LLANBERIS,  Sunday,  2nd  October  1847. 

My  dearest  Mary — I  must  again  before  leaving  Wales 
write  with  the  mountains  all  around  me,  hills  over  hills,  crest 
over  crest,  piled  in  the  wildest  beauty.  The  village  where 
we  have  been  staying  for  the  last  three  days  lies  just  at  the 
foot  of  Snowdon,  and  the  hotel  looks  over  the  Lake  of 
Llanberis,  which  is  divided  by  a  jutting  headland  on  which  is 
a  picturesque  old  tower  called  Dolbadarn  Castle.  On  the 
other  side  of  the  lake  rises  a  beautiful  range  of  mountains 
partly  covered  with  wood,  all  the  others  being  entirely  bare, 
save  where  in  the  valley  some  little  farmhouse  is  hidden  in  a 
nest  of  trees,  or  where  the  quaint  old  chapel  is  concealed. 
The  entrance  to  the  village  from  Capel  Curig,  the  road  we 
followed,  is  through  a  pass  about  five  miles  long,  with  cloud 
-capped  mountains  on  either  side,  partly  covered  with  turf  at 
their  base,  which  contrasts  beautifully  with  the  grey  slate 
rocks,  or  the  little  silver  threads  of  water  trickling  down 
their  sides ;  between  them  runs  a  mountain  stream,  and 
the  solitude  makes  sweet  music.  Such  scenery  I  never 


before  beheld,  and  could  you  see  it  as  I  did  at  evening, 
with  a  red  sunset  over  the  lakes  at  the  end,  and  the  outline 
of  the  old  tower  dimly  seen,  and  the  mist  slowly  descending 
down  the  mountain  sides,  I  am  sure  you  would  share  my 
delight.  To  describe  it  is  as  impossible  as  to  sketch  it, — you 
must  see  it  at  some  time  or  other.  On  Friday  we  ascended 
Snowdon,  and  though  it  was  enveloped  in  a  fog,  which  is 
generally  the  case,  as  we  learnt  from  the  complaints  in  the 
visitors'  book  at  the  summit,  yet  we  enjoyed  the  view  afforded 
us  by  the  separating  of  the  mists  all  the  more.  Fancy  a 
little  mountain  lake  with  a  gentle  slope  on  one  side  de 
scending  to  it,  on  the  other  broken  crag  covered  with 
moss,  and  with  countless  little  rivulets  dashing  and  foaming 
along,  and  on  the  third  rocks  perfectly  perpendicular  for 
some  hundreds  of  feet,  with  the  blue  outlines  of  distant 
mountains  in  front,  and  you  will  have  a  little  picture  of  our 
botanising  spot.  If  you  wish  to  give  life  to  the  scene,  add  a 
few  sheep  jumping  quite  fearlessly  from  crag  to  crag,  and  fancy 
you  hear  from  time  to  time,  when  the  mist  thickens,  a  loud 
"  Brooke  !  "  answered  by  as  loud  a  "  Holloa  !  "  Yesterday  we 
ascended  the  Glydar  Mountain,  the  great  rival  of  Snowdon, 
and  as  the  day  was  finer  we  enjoyed  it  even  more.  The 
scenery  is  beyond  all  description :  mountain  lakes,  blue 
mountains,  white  mists,  an  azure  sky,  black  defiles,  and 
sparkling  cataracts  must  be  compounded  in  every  conceivable 
manner  to  afford  a  proper  idea  of  the  country.  Connected 
with  our  return  in  the  evening  is  a  little  tale  I  must  tell  you 
when  I  see  you ;  all  I  can  say  now  is  that  I  am  very  thankful 
that  I  can  now  write,  and  that  my  father  is  safe,  for  we  were 
all  but  lost  upon  the  hills.  To-morrow,  if  all  be  well,  we 
intend  to  go  to  Carnarvon,  and  thence  to  Menai  Bridge, 
and  by  steamer  to  Liverpool.  I  certainly  never  enjoyed  a 
journey  so  much,  nor  do  I  remember  ever  feeling  the  benefit 
of  a  tour  so  much.  What  would  you  say  to  me  in  an  old 
coat,  a  baker's  cap,  a  thick  stick,  with  a  knapsack  over  my 
shoulder,  a  handy  bottle  in  my  hand,  and  a  cigar  in  my 
mouth  ?  Would  you  know  me  ?  But  enough  of  this.  To-day 
has  been  a  dull  Sunday — a  Sunday  without  church.  I  was,  I 
suppose,  misinformed  about  the  service,  for  I  went  to  the 
church  and  found  it  closed.  For  some  time  I  looked  at 


poor  Mr.  Starr's  grave,  whose  remains,  you  remember,  were 
found  a  short  time  since.  It  is  tastefully  decorated  with 
stones  and  moss  and  yew,  and  may  well  be  the  subject  of 
earnest  reflection.  He  was  young  and  active  and  zealous, 
the  sole  stay  of  a  mother  and  two  sisters.  I  have  been  much 
interested  with  a  little  memoir  of  him  I  found  here.  It  was 
strange  to  read  the  strong  aspirations  he  once  indulged  in 
after  fame — how  fearfully  they  were  realised.  I  found  a 
singular  tract  to-day  of  the  New  Jerusalem  Church  in  the 
parlour.  I  wish  we  were  as  zealous  in  spreading  our 
doctrines  as  they  appear  to  be  in  spreading  theirs.  Some  of 
the  views  of  the  Jewish  sacrifices  quite  made  me  pause.  You 
will  feel  surprise,  perhaps,  at  the  weakness  of  my  convictions. 
I  wish,  Marie,  they  were  stronger,  but  men  seem  so  strangely 
to  abandon  Scripture,  words  seem  to  change  so  much  in 
meaning,  and  creeds  to  change  with  them,  that  half  the 
theology  of  the  present  day  is  based  on  mere  ignorance  and 
carelessness.  But  why  should  I  trouble  you  with  all  this  ? 
I  was  much  struck  with  two  verses  to-day  as  I  was  walking, 
"  Take  heed,  my  brethren,  lest  there  be  in  any  of  you  an  evil 
heart  of  unbelief,  in  departing  from  the  living  God :  exhorting 
one  another  daily,  while  it  is  yet  called  to-day,  that  ye  be  not 
hardened  by  the  deceitfulness  of  sin."  The  last  words  are 
very  fearful.  Let  us  ever  "remember"  the  remedy  the 
Apostle  suggests.  Let  us  ever  pray  earnestly  and  heartily 
for  all  men,  particularly  those  near  to  us.  And  now,  my 
dearest  Mary,  I  must  say  a  Dieu. — Ever  believe  me,  yours 
most  affectionately,  BROOKE  F.  WESTCOTT. 


My  dearest  Mary — After  the  carman  had  made  exertions 
which  I  fear  almost  rendered  us  amenable  to  the  law  against 
cruelty  to  animals,  I  managed  to  reach  the  train  just  as  it 
was  on  the  point  of  starting,  and  in  accordance  with  my 
resolution  consigned  myself  to  a  carriage  (!)  something 
between  a  cattle-box  and  a  covered  cart — airy  enough,  no 
doubt,  and  in  summer  I  fancy  very  comfortable,  and  so  even 
in  autumn,  as  thought  a  party  who  indulged  in  singing  right 
merrily  from  time  to  time.  At  Gloucester  I  got  very  com- 


fortably  settled,  and  reached  home  in  good  time — and  so 
ended  my  journey;  and  so  is  almost  ended  one  of  the 
pleasantest  vacations  I  ever  spent. 

In  the  railway  carriage,  as  we  had  no  lights,  I  began  to 
think,  and  the  result  was  the  little  fragment  which  I  have 
written  down — trifling  as  it  is  in  itself,  it  may  be  interesting 
to  you  in  consideration  of  your  conversation  on  Tuesday. 
Let  us  heartily  pray  to  feel  as  I  would  endeavour  to  express 
at  the  end,  and  I  feel  sure  that  so  our  happiness  will  be  the 

What  is  my  task,  O  Lord  ? — 
For  still,  though  fear  and  doubt  oppress  my  heart, 

Dark  doubt  and  unbelief, 
I  feel  that  in  Thy  work  I  have  a  part, 
A  refuge  in  Thy  fold,  and  in  Thy  word  relief ; 
E'en  as  the  sun  sheds  gladness  though  his  face 

With  gloom  be  overspread, 
Or  as  a  tiny  rill,  half-choked  with  grass, 
Still  decks  the  healthy  moor  with  a  "  bright  emerald  thread." 

What  is  my  task,  O  Lord  ? — 
To  bear  Thy  cross  with  stern  resolve  and  high, 

By  many  an  idol  shrine, 
Where  suppliant  lands  in  abject  bondage  lie, 
And  offer  prayer  and  praise  which  only  should  be  Thine  ? 
Or  where  the  ivy  creeps  o'er  fallen  towers, 

And  temples  desolate  ? 

Or  where  the  wood-wove  aisles  inwrought  with  flowers, 
Echo  the  lone  bird's  song  wailing  its  long-lost  mate  ? 

Bid  me  whate'er  Thou  wilt, 
And  oh  may  I  with  earnestness  and  love 

Discharge  my  heavenly  task  ; 
May  I  to  Thee  a  zealous  heart  approve  ! 
This  prayer  alone  I  raise,  this  gift  alone  I  ask: 
Oh  may  I  learn  to  sacrifice  to  Thee 

Whate'er  I  dearest  own  ; 

For  thee,  Lord,  may  I  live  !  and  breathe  on  me 
A  spirit  of  holy  fear,  a  fear  for  Thee  alone  ! 

Add  this,  Marie,  if  you  please,  to  my  other  fragments. 


EDGBASTON,  BIRMINGHAM,  iSt/i  October  1847. 

My  dearest  Mary — First  of  all  I  must  tell  you  of  an  event 
at  which  you  will  rejoice  for  our  Church's  sake — Mr.  Lee  is 
the  new  Bishop  of  Manchester  !  When  I  called  on  him  on 
Saturday  and  he  entered  the  room,  I  was  very  much  struck  with 
his  appearance.  He  seemed  very  much  agitated,  and  he  said 
something  to  me  which  led  me  to  suppose  some  serious  event 
had  occurred,  but  of  what  nature,  whether  good  or  bad,  I 
could  not  tell,  and  then  in  a  minute  or  two  he  told  me  what 
it  was.  We  went  out  directly  after,  and  he  spoke  admirably, 
earnestly,  or  rather  Christianly  about  it.  "Remember," 
Marie.  I  sincerely  rejoice  at  it  for  the  good  he  will  do ; 
much  as  Birmingham  will  suffer.  We  always  thought  he 
lived  in  too  much  retirement,  but  it  seems  he  was  not  for 
gotten  ;  I  believe  the  Queen  herself  received  him.  He  has 
already  given  me  an  invitation  to  the  Palace  at  Manchester 
for  Christmas,  but  of  course  I  shall  be  obliged  to  decline  it. 
I  shall  look  for  his  first  charge  with  great  anxiety :  I  am  sure 
he  will  touch  on  Education. 

Yesterday  our  collections  were  not  for  the  Irish,  but  for 
some  Infant  School  which  had  been  planned  before  the  late 
distress  but  suspended  in  consequence  of  it,  and  I  must 
confess  [that  I  felt  much  more  pleasure  in  giving  towards 
them  than  for  the  Irish.  Much  as  I  should  deprecate  any 
angry  feeling  towards  the  Church  of  Rome,  utterly  useless 
and  injurious  as  I  deem  all  the  controversy  of  the  present 
day,  yet  really  I  am  beginning  to  feel  a  growing  abhorrence 
of  her  principles :  they  are  all  earthly,  and  it  is  from  this 
she  prospers. 

TRINITY  COLLEGE,  jtA  November  1847. 

This  week  I  have  been  out  on  two  evenings  at  parties 
given  by  a  Fellow ;  in  each  case  by  one  in  orders ;  and  each 
time  I  must  say  the  feeling  when  I  left  was  far  from  a 
pleasant  one.  On  one  occasion  the  conversation  was  almost 
exclusively  occupied  with  a  discussion  of  theatres  and 
opera  singers  !  Men  speaking  from  their  own  experience ! 
Can  you  imagine  anything  worse  ?  It  is  perhaps  an  unseemly 


task  to  criticise  one's  neighbours,  but  indeed  I  could  not 
help  it  on  such  an  occasion.  What  would  our  forefathers, 
our  founders,  say,  who  doubtless  were  superstitious  men, 
but  earnest  too  I  fully  believe?  The  question  of  social 
intercourse  which  this  matter  involves  in  my  opinion  is  one 
of  the  weightiest  we  have  practically  to  decide.  How  we 
can  lay  down  a  general  rule  I  cannot  see.  It  ought  to  be 
one  of  the  greatest  means  of  doing  good,  and  St.  Paul  seems 
to  permit  the  ties  of  friendship  and  fellowship  to  remain 
with  an  unbeliever.  O  Marie,  as  I  wrote  the  last  word,  I 
could  not  help  asking  what  am  I  ?  Can  I  claim  the  name 
of  a  believer  ?  I  seem  to  have  a  few  hopes,  a  few  desires,  a 
few  earnest  aspirations  after  truth  and  holiness,  but  what 
more  ?  All  that  is  sensible  and  objective  in  my  belief  seems 
to  fade  away.  I  begin  to  fancy  that  there  is  much  which 
is  human  in  our  Church — that  we  have  lost  the  primitive 
simplicity  and  primitive  purity,  and  I  tremble  when  I  say 
so,  for  this  may  be  only  a  temptation.  I  always  would 
remember  John  vii.  1 7.  It  is  a  most  cheering  text,  and  yet 
whence  spring  the  differences  of  really  sincere  and  zealous 
men, — can  they  be  fatal?  "Remember."  I  will  write  no 
more  in  this  strain,  but  I  felt  so,  and  I  could  write  no  other 
wise.  I  wish  I  could  find  some  one  who  feels  as  I  do,  or 
rather  who  has  felt  so.  When  I  observe  the  men  round  me,  or 
when  I  hear  you  speak,  I  cannot  but  wonder,  and  yet  my  own 
difficulties  may  in  a  great  measure  arise  from  my  own  pride. 
I  think,  Marie,  in  my  last  note  I  was  speaking  about  having 
an  object  in  one's  life.  I  do  not  think  I  could  speak  of 
anything  which  is  more  important.  We  are,  I  know,  too  apt 
to  trust  to  the  occasion  furnishing  us  from  time  to  time  with 
objects  and  motives  for  action.  But  I  am  sure  that  we  do 
but  act  in  the  true  spirit  of  our  Lord's  discourse  when  we 
calculate  carefully  all  the  sacrifices  we  are  willing  to  make, 
and  may  reasonably  make,  and  all  the  duties  which  we  are 
fitted  to  discharge ;  and  there  cannot  be  a  fitter  time  for  so 
doing  than  the  present.  Even  the  future  will  assume  a 
certain  definiteness  and  reality  if  we  can  set  before  our  eyes 
that  which  shall  be  our  great  end  amid  all  the  variety  of 
external  fortune  which  Providence  may  assign ;  and  I  feel 
sure  that  our  resolution  may  be  strengthened  even  by  thus 


contemplating  at  a  distance  what  we  judge  and  feel  to  be 
our  duty,  though  often  we  might  abandon  its  teaching  were 
it  to  be  addressed  to  us  without  preparation.  And  now  it 
is  Church  time.  A  Dieu,  Marie.  "Think  on  these  things." 
Ever  yours. 

TRINITY  COLLEGE,  nth  November  1847. 

My  dearest  Mary — You  will  be  surprised,  I  am  sure,  to 
hear  that  this  evening  I  am  going  to  a  concert.  However,  I 
will  explain  myself.  There  is  a  society  of  University  men  who, 
with  the  assistance  ot  some  local  musicians,  give  a  certain 
number  of  concerts  in  the  year,  and  this  evening  I  was  offered 
a  ticket,  which,  as  I  have  done  before,  I  refused ;  but  I  was 
induced  to  go  to  the  rehearsal,  and  I  felt  that  it  would  do  me 
good,  and  so  I  changed  my  mind.  The  music  to  be  performed 
is  very  good — Haydn's  Seventh  Symphony,  an  overture  of 
Kalliarda's,  the  overtures  to  Figaro  and  Masaniello,  and  one 
or  two  songs. 

I  have  lately  felt  extremely  dull  and  unable  to  read,  and  I 
think  that  even  an  evening  will  be  well  spent  in  such  a  relaxa 
tion  ;  and  you  cheated  me  of  I  don't  know  how  much  music 
when  I  was  down  at  Bristol.  I  will  not  fill  you  with  my  com 
plaints,  but  really  the  term  seems  to  be  flying,  and  I  can  do 
nothing.  My  attention  is  continually  distracted.  There  are 
so  many  claims  on  it  that  I  know  not  which  to  attend  to  ;  but 
I  am  resolved  to  dispel  all  excessive  anxiety.  I  sincerely  trust 
that  whatever  I  may  do,  it  may  be  so  that  it  may  make  me 
more  useful.  I  would  have  this  thought  continually  before 
my  mind.  Again  and  again  have  I  solemnly  determined  that 
all  the  power  and  influence  1  ever  may  have  possessed  shall 
be  devoted  to  one  object,  and  earnestly  I  would  pray  that  I 
may  keep  my  vow.  In  reference,  my  dearest  Mary,  to  that  ot 
which  I  was  speaking  in  my  last  note,  I  always  myself  am 
inclined  to  rest  on  the  two  verses  I  have  so  often  mentioned, 
Mark  ix.  24,  John  vii.  17.  I  think,  indeed,  they  contain 
every  consolation.  It  is  in  such  passages,  where  we  see  the 
particular  adaptation  of  Scripture  to  our  own  feelings,  that  I 
see  chiefly  their  inspiration.  There  seems  to  be  some  refer 
ence  to  every  fear,  and  some  remedy  against  it.  Do  you 


remember  what  Wilson  says  of  "  the  will  to  ask  God's  assist 
ance  "  ?  I  am  very  glad,  Marie,  you  wrote  as  you  did  ;  I 
seemed  to  feel  that  you  wrote  as  you  felt,  and  on  such  points 
at  least  we  should  help  one  another,  we  should  know  one 
another's  thoughts.  If  I  dare  not  communicate  to  you  my 
own  wild  doubts  at  times,  it  is  because  I  feel  they  are  punish 
ment  for  my  own  pride,  and  which  I  should  tempt  no  one  to 
share.  May  we  be  guided  in  all  truth,  may  we  value  nothing 
so  highly.  We  seem  to  be  required  to  make  no  sacrifice,  at 
least  we  act  as  if  such  were  the  case.  Marie,  "remember." 
Next  Sunday  is  our  Communion  day. 

TRINITY  COLLEGE,  Advent  Sunday,  1847. 

My  dearest  Mary — Even  at  the  risk  of  writing  you  a  very 
dull  note,  I  must  begin  it  this  evening.  I  have  from  some 
cause  or  other  felt  singularly  low  to-day.  I  do  not  know  that 
I  have  had  any  reason,  without  it  be  the  fierce  discussion 
which  is  at  present  raging  about  the  appointment  of  a  Dr. 
Hampden  (a  friend  of  Arnold's)  to  the  Bishopric  of  Hereford. 
All  stigmatise  him  as  a  "heretic,"  and  apply  all  the  vocabulary 
of  theological  abuse,  which  to  the  Church's  shame  is  an  ex 
tensive  one,  to  mark  him  and  his  adherents.  I  thought  myself 
that  he  was  grievously  in  error,  but  yesterday  I  read  over  the 
selections  from  his  writings  which  his  adversaries  make,  and 
in  them  I  found  systematically  expressed  the  very  strains  of 
thought  which  I  have  been  endeavouring  to  trace  out  for  the 
last  two  or  three  years.  If  he  be  condemned,  what  will  become 
of  me  ?  I  believe  he  holds  the  truth  ;  if  he  be  condemned,  / 
cannot  see  how  I  shall  ever  enter  the  Church.  It  is  a  sad 
crisis.  I  maybe  speaking  too  warmly,  but  you  will  know  that 
I  do  feel  warmly  too  on  such  subjects.  When  religion  becomes 
a  science  of  words  and  definitions,  I  cannot  help  thinking  that 
its  spirit  is  gone.  I  wish  you  could  see  an  article  in  The 
English  Churchman  (a  religious  (!)  newspaper).  They  made 
mention  of  Arnold's*  heresy.  But  enough  of  this,  I  could  not 
write  less,  and  I  will  not  write  more.  "Remember,"  Marie. 
I  have  read  some  of  Arnold's  Life  again  to-day.  You  must  at 
some  time  read  it.  If  he  were  a  heretic,  I  should  be  satisfied 


to  be  one  too.  I  could  soon  make  a  choice  between  him  and 
"  Saint "  Jerome,  even  in  spite  of  Keble.  Keble  has  lately 
published  some  sermons  in  which,  as  well  as  in  a  preface  on 
"the  position  of  Churchmen,"  I  am  afraid  he  will  offend 
many.  I  can  in  some  measure  sympathise  with  him.  I  wish 
his  creed  would  surfer  him  to  sympathise  with  us.  If  our  lives 
be  spared,  we  must  see  strange  events.  The  present  advance 
of  Romanising  tendencies  is  but  as  the  swell  which  always 
precedes,  we  are  told,  the  retiring  of  the  sea.  We  must  soon 
fall  back  on  a  mere  moral  atheism,  or  what  is  still  as  bad,  a 
"hero-worship."  The  battle  of  the  Inspiration  of  Scripture 
has  yet  to  be  fought,  and  how  earnestly  I  could  pray  that  I 
might  aid  the  truth  in  that.  And  yet  I  would  sooner  be 
"  doing."  As  soon  as  my  Degree  is  over  I  shall  write  to 
"  our  "  Bishop,  asking  his  advice  about  my  future  life  and  my 
present  doubts,  and  then  I  hope  in  earnest  to  live.  I  met 
with  a  characteristic  remark  of  Arnold's  to-day ;  he  said  that 
he  could  not  sympathise  with  Wordsworth's  lines — "To  me 
the  meanest  flower,"  etc.  ;  that  "we  had  no  time  to  bestow 
such  thought  on  trifles."  But  how  many  minds  are  there 
whose  very  privilege  it  is  to  dwell  on  small  things !  How 
many  duties  would  be  neglected  were  it  not  so !  If  he  had 
meant  that  we  should  not  suffer  speculation  to  carry  us  away 
from  active  life,  then  I  could  agree  with  him.  But  we  have 
all  our  several  duties.  May  we  all  be  enabled  to  discharge 
them  in  all  earnestness  and  in  all  sincerity  !  May  God  bless 
us,  my  dearest  Mary,  may  He  teach  us,  and  teach  us  to  regard 
the  truth  only ! — Ever  believe  me,  your  most  affectionate 


To-morrow  I  may  be  more  cheerful. 

TRINITY  COLLEGE,  Christmas  Day,  1847. 

My  Christmas  Day  is  now  nearly  over,  and  you  may  picture 
me  to  yourself,  my  dearest  Mary,  seated  alone  in  my  snug 
sitting-room,  which  is  most  gaily  decked  with  all  kinds  of  ever 
greens,  thanks  to  my  boldness  last  night,  with  my  desk  open 
before  me,  which  is  now  only  employed  on  great  occasions, 
and  all  my  books  put  aside ;  a  Keble,  a  Vinet,  and  my  stout 


little  Greek  Testament  still  remaining ;  to  complete  the  scene 
you  may  add  a  cheerful  fire,  the  merry  sound  of  voices  in  the 
room  below,  and  a  confused  pile  of  books  on  my  reading 
stand  which  betokens  the  near  approach  of  an  examination. 
And  how  has  the  day  been  spent?  you  will  ask.  To  be  candid, 
Marie,  I  think  I  shall  remember  it  with  more  pleasure  than 
many  other  like  days ;  and  it  is  with  grief  I  say  it,  for  surely 
the  presence  of*  those  we  love  ought  always  to  add  to  our 
pleasure;  and  yet  I  seem  to  prefer  solitude;  I  fear  it  is  because 
it  has  less  temptations.  It  is  less  difficult  to  please  oneself 
than  to  fulfil  one's  social  duties.  But  to-day  I  have  not  been 
much  alone, — though  first  I  will  return  to  last  night.  I  went 
to  Chapel,  contrary  to  my  usual  custom,  as  there  was  Cathedral 
Service,  but  I  thought  that  it  was  excusable  to  go  even 
for  the  pleasure  of  the  ear,  and  we  had  "  O  thou  that  tellest  "  ; 
after  this  I  went  to  tea  to  one  of  the  College  tutors,  and  I 
would  that  his  account  of  the  Xmas  festivities  had  shown  that 
the  Christian  nature  of  the  season  is  recognised  here, — but  I 
will  not  dwell  on  this;  and  thence,  after  sallying  into  the 
market-place  to  get  my  evergreens,  I  returned  to  finish  my 
week's  work.  This  morning  I  went  to  the  Schools  for  a  short 
time,  but  there  were  no  regular  lessons ;  and  then  we  had 
Communion  in  Chapel.  After  this  I  read  in  my  rooms  till 
Hall  time — Pascal  chiefly ;  and  after  Hall  a  friend  sat  with 
me  till  Chapel  time,  when  we  had  that  glorious  chorus  "  Unto 
us  a  Son  is  born  " ;  and  after  this  I  have  been  talking  with  an 
old  schoolfellow  whom  I  have  not  seen  for  two  years.  He  is 
reading  for  Orders.  He  entirely  sympathises  with  my 
difficulties,  and  I  need  not  say  how  pleasantly  the  evening 
has  been  spent.  But  you  might  have  smiled  had  you  heard 
my  fruitless  endeavours  to  sing  "Hark  the  herald  angels 
sing."  What  would  I  have  given  for  my  piano ;  nevertheless 
I  made  the  effort,  and  that  satisfied  me.  I  do  not  remember 
talking  last  year  of  going  abroad,  but  that  has  been  one  of  the 
subjects  of  conversation  this  evening.  I  feel  more  and  more 
inclined  to  question  the  lightness  of  the  spirit  which  would 
lead  me  away  from  England,  and  I  feel  sure  that  we  have 
more  works  of  self-denial  here,  and  I  may  perhaps  say  more 
room  for  energy  and  zeal,  than  in  India  or  New  Zealand. 
But  then,  my  dearest  Mary,  it  is  the  very  difficulty  of  living 


here  as  I  think  a  Christian  minister  should  live  would  make 
me  wish  to  go  to  some  distant  place  where  simplicity  is  not 
called  meanness,  nor  liberty  annoyance  or  heresy.  Our  whole 
Church  seems  here  so  necessarily  affected  by  the  general  tone 
of  society,  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  restore  the  spirit  of 
simpler  times.  But  hear  how  I  am  speaking — impossible — 
nay,  not  if  it  be  right — and  I  will  continue  this  strain  no  longer. 
On  this  day  I  would  again  most  solemnly  resolve  to  devote 
my  whole  life  and  energy  to  God's  service.  And  pray  most 
earnestly  for  me,  my  dearest  Mary,  that  I  may  be  taught  how 
I  may  best  employ  the  talents  which  have  been  committed  to 
my  keeping — that  in  every  trial  and  every  joy  this  great 
object  may  ever  be  before  me ;  that  no  success  may  elate  me, 
no  disappointment  discourage  me,  but  that  in  all  I  may  find 
some  fresh  aid  towards  faithfully  discharging  my  proper  duties. 
Are  you,  Mary,  earnestly  determined  to  join  in  those  same 
resolves?  Let  me  ask  you  to  examine  yourself.  Do  not 
answer  from  mere  feeling  or  impulse :  try  to  realise  all  the 
difficulties  of  such  a  course  as  I  should  point  out,  and  con 
sider  whether  you  would  be  willing  to  meet  them.  In  all  we 
do  and  plan  and  think,  now,  and  in  time  to  come,  may  we 
sincerely  and  heartily  serve  God  !  May  His  Spirit  be  with  us 
now  and  for  ever  !  Amen. 

In  spite  of  your  forebodings,  I  trust  you  enjoyed  your 
Xmas  Day  much  more  than  you  anticipated.  I  was  quite 
delighted  with  mine,  and  yesterday  was  very  pleasantly  spent. 
And  now  after  this  refreshment  the  examination  is  staring  me 
in  the  face ;  but  I  will  not  be  anxious — I  have  quite  resolved 
to  keep  my  determination. 

TRINITY  COLLEGE,  29^  December  1847. 

My  dearest  Mary — It  is  a  bad  beginning  to  a  note  to  say 
that  I  feel  disinclined  to  write,  but  if  you  knew  the  strange 
feelings  and  occupations  of  a  "  questionist "  within  less  than 
a  week  of  his  examination,  I  know  you  would  have  fellow- 
feeling  with  me.  If  all  be  well  this  time  next  week  one  day 
of  our  examination  will  be  over  ;  and  how  soon  it  will  all  be 
over — how  soon  it  will  all  be  but  a  mere  remembrance,  a  name 
and  nothing  more.  But  there  is  some  comfort,  while  we  set 

VOL.  I  H 


not  undue  value  on  University  honours,  in  knowing  that  all 
the  time  useful  habits  of  thought  and  action  are  being  gained, 
which  will  last  when  the  excitement  which  in  some  degree 
stimulated  them  is  forgotten. 

I  am  very  thankful  that  hitherto  I  have  escaped  the  in 
fluenza.  You  do  not  appear  to  have  been  so  fortunate,  and 
from  what  I  know  of  it,  I  can  fully  commiserate  with  you.  I 
must  tell  you,  as  it  is  a  thing  in  which  I  took  some  interest,  that 
Dr.  Hampden  was  elected  Bishop  of  Hereford  on  Tuesday, 
two  only  out  of  about  fifteen  opposing  him.  The  leader  of 
the  opposition,  the  Dean,  appears  from  his  own  statement  to 
have  been  a  disappointed  candidate  for  the  preferment,  and 
so  I  cannot  value  his  opinion  much.  Dr.  Hampden  has, 
however,  been  formally  charged  with  heresy,  and  I  shall  wait 
with  great  interest  to  see  the  result  of  the  trial.  I  am  very 
glad  that  Mr.  Lee  entirely  favours  Hampden,  and  yet  I  felt 
sure  he  would. 

I  think  if  I  had  been  with  you  on  Xmas  Day,  I  should 
have  resisted  the  temptation  to  be  proud,  even  if  you  had 
praised  that  little  air,  and  I  know  you  would  have  been  so 
much  amused  with  my  attempts  at  singing  that  at  least  the 
praise  would  have  been  neutralised. 

TRINITY  COLLEGE,  6tk  January  1848. 

I  know  nothing  more  suited  to  inspirit  us  than  to  notice 
the  pleasure  which  a  kind  word  or  look  will  shed  on  the  most 
miserable.  It  is  strange  that  we  do  not  always  seek  to 
employ  such  simple  charities,  to  use  an  old  word,  but  it  is  this 
kindliness  of  manner,  this  ever-cheerful,  ever-peaceful  spirit, 
which  we  gain  last,  and  for  which  we  should  most  earnestly 
pray.  It  is  that  which  above  all  others  aids  us  in  our  social 
duties.  I  know  naturally  I  am  far  more  inclined  to  scorn 
than  pity,  and  yet  I  fancy  I  can  feel  the  growth  of  a  deep 
interest  and  a  firm  sympathy  with  all  our  "neighbours," 
though  pride  will  yet  make  me  often  very  selfish.  It  seems 
as  if  I  am  inclined  to  learn  nothing ;  I  must  find  out  all 
myself,  and  then  I  am  satisfied,  but  that  simple  faith  and 
obedience  which  so  many  enjoy,  I  fear  will  never  be  mine. 


How  prolix  we  may  be  when  we  talk  of  ourselves,  and  yet  I 
do  not  think  you  will  be  an  unwilling  hearer,  and  I  would 
have  you  know  my  whole  nature,  for  at  times  I  fear  you  do 
not  comprehend  it ;  but  it  is  not  all  contradiction,  I  think, 
and  it  will,  I  trust,  grow  firmer  and  more  steadfast.  I  will 
not  talk  to  you  about  the  examination.  I  am  resolved  to 
convince  myself  that  it  is  a  matter  of  very  little  moment — 
though  this  be  a  hard  lesson.  We  are  not  admitted  to  B.A. 
till  the  3oth,  I  think.  How  soon  after  B.A.  follows  the  solemn 
ordination!  You  can  scarcely  tell  how  I  felt  when  I  found 
we  had  to  sign  some  declaration  before  the  degree.  I  feared 
it  might  be  of  an  assent  to  the  Thirty -Nine  Articles,  and 
that  I  dare  not  give  now ;  but  to  my  great  joy,  it  was  only  of 
being  a  member  of  the  Church  of  England,  and  that  I  am,  I 
fully  believe,  in  all  her  ancient  spirit.  All  this  now  will  be 
about  myself;  to  prevent  this  I  will  copy  a  few  lines  at 
random  from  The  Princess : — 

Woman  is  not  undevelopt  man, 

But  diverse  :  could  we  make  her  as  the  man, 

Sweet  Love  were  slain,  whose  dearest  love  is  this, 

Not  like  to  like,  but  like  to  difference. 

Yet  in  the  long  years  liker  must  they  grow ; 

The  man  be  more  of  woman,  she  of  man  ; 

He  gain  in  sweetness  and  in  moral  height, 

Nor  lose  the  wrestling  thews  that  throw  the  world  ; 

She  mental  breadth,  nor  fail  in  childward  care  ; 

Till  at  the  last  she  set  herself  to  man, 
Like  perfect  music  unto  noble  words  ; 

Self-reverent  each  and  reverencing  each, 

Distinct  in  individualities, 

But  like  each  other  e'en  as  those  who  love. 

Again  another  chance  passage,  and  a  very  beautiful  one. 
A  mother  laments  over  her  child,  whom  she  has  left  in  the 
power  of  others.  She  says  it 

Will  sicken  with  ill-usage,  when  they  say 
The  child  is  hers  ;  and  they  will  beat  my  girl 


Remembering  her  mother  :  O  my  flower  ! 

Or  they  will  take  her,  they  will  make  her  hard, 

And  she  will  pass  me  by  in  after-life 

With  some  cold  reverence  worse  than  were  she  dead. 

The  three  last  lines  are,  I  think,  exquisitely  pathetic,  ex 
quisitely  simple.  And  last  a  description  of  his  mother — one 

Not  learned,  save  in  gracious  household  ways, 
Not  perfect,  nay,  but  full  of  tender  wants, 
No  Angel,  but  a  dearer  being,  all  dipt 
In  Angel  instincts,  breathing  Paradise, 

Who  look'd  all  native  to  her  place,  and  yet 
On  tiptoe  seem'd  to  touch  upon  a  sphere 
Too  gross  to  tread. 

I  know  you  will  thank  me  for  these  little  gems ;  but  I 
would  he  had  somewhere  in  his  work  one  Christian  thought ; 
but  he  has  not  one.  Yet  I  am  sure  Christianity  alone  can 
teach  the  true  relations  of  "man  and  the  helpmeet  for  him." 
You  see  again  I  shall  wander ;  but  I  will  have  done. 

I  am  very  glad,  my  dearest  Mary,  you  are  likely  to  have  a 
class.  Bad  as  mine  is  unfortunately,  I  learn  very  much 
from  them,  at  least  I  learn  what  my  duties  will  be. 

Look  on  us,  Lord,  and  take  our  parts, 

Even  on  Thy  throne  of  purity  ; 
From  these  our  proud  yet  grovelling  hearts 

Hide  not  Thy  mild  forgiving  eye. 

After  all,  a  verse  of  Keble  is  worth  volumes  of  Tennyson. 
A  Dieu,  Mary.  Ever  "remember." — Your  most  affectionate 


l^th  January  1848,  9. 30  A.M. 

My  dearest  Mary — Once  more  I  must  ask  you  to  rejoice 
with  me.  I  am  24th  Wrangler,  and  I  need  not  say  that  is 
a  higher  place  than  I  could  possibly  have  expected.  I  am 


sure  my  father  will  be  very  much  pleased.  And  I  know  you 
will — shall  I  say  because  I  am  ?  I  have  very  much  to  be 
thankful  for ;  and  to  increase  my  pleasure  my  most  intimate 
friend  is  two  places  above  me.  It  is  some  time  since  two 
University  Scholars  were  Wranglers  together.  In  all  I  do  and 
in  all  my  successes  and  disappointments — few  as  I  have  had 
— may  I  always  "  remember."  And  do  you,  my  dearest  Mary, 
ever  "  remember." — Your  most  affectionate 


Please  direct  in  future  "Trinity  College." 

TRINITY  COLLEGE,  Sunday,  1848. 

My  dearest  Mary — Again  for  some  little  time  I  am  free 
from  examinations.  In  about  three  weeks  all  will  be  over. 
For  my  own  part,  I  have  been  greatly  pleased  that  I  have 
been  able  to  feel  comparatively  so  little  excited  during  the 
last  week,  and  yet  it  has  not  been  any  consciousness  of  doing 
well  which  has  buoyed  me  up,  but  I  trust  a  sincere  reflection 
on  the  real  nature  of  such  distinctions  as  success  confers,  and 
an  earnest  endeavour  all  along  to  remember  the  vow  I  have 
so  often  made  to  devote  all  my  energy  and  knowledge  to  the 
greatest  of  all  services.  And  shall  I  say  that  I  feel  that 
whatever  success  I  may  have,  it  will  be  that  which  will  most 
fit  me  to  be  useful?  "Remember,"  Marie,  so  that  I  may 
heartily  say  this.  In  my  last  note  I  just  hinted  at  the  affairs 
abroad,  and  since  that  time  we  have  had  a  repetition  of  the 
"three  days"  of  1830.  I  cannot  say  that  I  feel  any  great 
indignation  at  the  Parisian  mob.  They  had  doubtless  great 
grievances  to  complain  of,  and  perhaps  no  obvious  remedy 
but  to  be  gained  by  force.  But  then  the  effects  will  be  felt 
all  over  Europe.  I  cannot  think  of  Italy  or  Austria  without 
alarm.  It  seems  that  a  civil  war  is  greatly  to  be  apprehended 
or  hoped  for,  I  hardly  know  which,  and  our  country  may 
certainly  hope  for  some  safety-valve  for  French  violence. 
They  are  indeed  fearful  times.  There  is  need  of  a  real 
Church  amid  all  this  confusion. 

The  gentleman  from  whom  I  received  a  note  is  one  of 
the  co -heirs  with  my  father  of  the  property  in  question.  I 

102          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

imagine  some  proceedings  will  be  taken,  but  of  course  all 
legal  affairs  are  not  only  tedious  but  uncertain.  I  imagine 
the  estate  is  a  considerable  one.  My  father's  share  would 
be  one -third.  But  it  is  no  use  anticipating  possible  con 
tingencies.  On  looking  over  the  pedigree,  I  found  that  a 
Brooke  greatly  distinguished  himself  for  the  King  in  the  Civil 
War.  I  fear  we  should  have  fought  against  him. 

TRINITY  COLLEGE,  yd  February  1848. 

My  dearest  Mary — I  was  very  sorry  that  my  staying  five 
minutes  too  long  at  Mid's  on  Monday  evening  should  have 
caused  my  note  to  be  too  late.  The  post  office  here  is  quite 
inexorable,  save  to  the  bribe  of  sixpence,  and  that  I  declined 
to  give.  You  can  scarcely  tell  how  I  rejoice  in  my  new 
rooms.  For  the  first  time  I  feel  a  personal  interest  in 
everything  about  me.  All  is  my  own.  My  own  carpets  and 
chairs,  and  such  an  easy-chair !  Twice  has  it  deluded  me  to 
sleep,  and  in  my  inventory  they  call  it  a  study -chair !  I 
am  afraid  I  could  give  you  no  idea  of  my  new  domains, 
which  include  one  entrance  hall  with  a  red  baize  door  (!)  and 
two  oval  glass  panes  in  it  (!).  Then  a  minor  passage  leading 
to  a  spacious  gyp -room,  while  the  principal  entrance  leads 
to  my  sitting-room,  which  is  a  most  venerable-looking  room, 
very  nicely  furnished,  with  two  windows  looking  into  Neville's 
and  one  into  the  New  Court.  From  this  are  doors  which 
lead  into  a  snug  little  study,  where  I  intend  to  shut  up  pupils 
in  time  to  come,  and  into  my  bed-room,  which  is  very  nicely 
fitted  up;  and  at  length  I  have  found  out  the  difference 
between  horse-hair  and  straw.  Only  one  thing  offends  my 
spirit  of  liberty,  and  that  is  the  barring  up  my  bed-room 
windows,  as  I  have  no  intention  of  getting  out  by  that  way, 
and  if  I  had  I  should  probably  only  reach  the  roof  of  the 
library  at  the  farthest.  My  carpets  and  paper  are  very  pretty ; 
and  fortunately,  as  on  two  sides  the  walls  of  my  room  slope, 
while  a  third  is  entirely  occupied  with  a  bookcase,  I  have 
little  temptation  to  be  extravagant  in  pictures.  At  some  time 
or  other  I  shall  buy  one  or  two  favourites — perhaps  before 
you  visit  me ;  and  I  shall  make  Lizzy  contribute  some  work 


of  art  or  other.  When  will  you,  Marie,  send  me  a  picture  ? 
I  am  afraid  my  chapters  are  now  in  sad  confusion  owing  to 
my  late  distresses ;  will  you  tell  me  what  you  are  .reading  ? 
When  you  last  wrote  we  were  together. 

I  am  afraid  there  is  very  little  chance  of  my  grandmamma's 
recovery.  My  father  gives  a  very  unfavourable  opinion,  and 
I  never  doubt  his  judgment.  I  wrote  her  a  few  lines  yesterday. 
You  have  heard  that  the  judges  are  divided  about  Hampden's 
case,  so  that  the  application  for  the  rule  will  be  dismissed, 
and  the  Church  freed  from  the  miserable  bitterness  of  party 
feeling.  Have  you  ever  read  any  of  Archbishop  Leighton's 
writings  ?  I  hardly  know  why  I  ask  the  question,  save  that 
I  think  he  has  more  than  any  one  realised  the  true  character 
of  a  bishop.  He  refused  the  title  of  "my  Lord."  The 
differences  between  the  Jesuits  and  Jansenists  were  on  the 
point  of  grace.  They  were  extremely  subtle.  Perhaps  you 
may  generally  express  the  opinion  by  saying  that  the  Jesuits 
believed  all  to  have  sufficient  grace  given,  while  the  Jansenists 
supposed  that  this  was  peculiar  to  the  elect.  They  may  be 
represented  in  some  way,  I  fancy,  by  the  Arminians  and 
Calvinists  of  our  own  Church.  But  Paschal's  Provinciates 
are  not  directed  against  the  Jesuits  in  this  opinion,  but 
generally  against  their  speculative  morality.  I  cannot  imagine 
anything  worse,  and  but  by  the  help  of  their  writers,  I  could 
never  have  imagined  anything  so  bad.  We  must  read  some 
of  the  Pensees  when  we  next  meet.  But  now  it  is  Chapel 
time.  A  Dieu.  Ever  "remember." — Your  most  affectionate 




IMMEDIATELY  after  the  appearance  of  the  Classical 
Tripos  list,  Westcott  was  busied  with  private  pupils. 
Of  these  he  had  six  during  the  May  term.  One  of 
his  earliest  pupils  was  F.  W.  Wickenden,  who  also 
was  an  old  Birmingham  boy,  and  to  whom  he  became 
greatly  attached.  None  of  my  father's  friends,  save 
Wickenden,  ever  addressed  him  by  his  Christian  name. 

During  the  long  vacation  of  1848  my  father,  in  con 
junction  with  Mr.  H.  R.  Alder,  conducted  a  reading 
party  in  Wales. 

Their  headquarters  were  at  Beddgelert,  and  they 
made  many  ascents  of  Snowdon  from  various  sides  by 
night  as  well  as  day.  A  graphic  account  of  one  of 
these  nocturnal  ascents  is  given  in  a  letter  to  Miss 
Whittard.  Therein  he  says  : — 

About  half-past  n  we  set  out  rich  with  rug  or  plaid,  a 
"  wide-awake  "  (this  is  the  fashionable  head-dress,  I  can  assure 
you — the  costume  of  the  Cambridge  elite\  and  a  stick.  Fortu 
nately  we  had  prudence  enough  to  add  a  lantern,  a  spare 
piece  of  candle,  and  some  brandy  to  our  general  stock.  Two 
only  intended  to  go  to  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  and  so 


CHAP,  in  CAMBRIDGE:   GRADUATE   LIFE       105 

finally  our  party  was  reduced  to  four.  The  sky  soon  became 
perfectly  clouded  over,  and  there  was  no  moon.  In  the 
warmth  of  a  conversation  we  walked  two  miles  past  the 
proper  turning,  then  discovering  our  mistake  we  came  back, 
and  entering  a  little  path,  finally  determined  that  that  could  not 
be  right,  and  so  still  continued  in  the  direction  of  Beddgelert 
till  we  came  nearly  to  the  village.  Here  we  consulted  for  a 
short  time,  and  in  spite  of  the  rain  which  now  began  to  fall, 
we  determined  to  return  once  more  and  try  the  path  again. 
I  took  the  lantern  and  a  match,  and  asked  for  three  minutes 
only  to  decide  whether  we  were  right  or  not ;  and  in  less 
than  the  appointed  time  I  came  to  a  cottage  which  we  all 
recognised,  and  this  being  passed,  the  ascent  began.  At  first 
we  had  to  pass  over  some  flat  boggy  ground  with  a  very  faint 
track,  but  we  completed  this  part  of  our  journey  successfully. 
But  before  we  had  done  so  the  rain  was  falling  in  torrents, 
and  when  we  began  to  climb  among  the  rocks  every  path 
was  a  little  mountain  stream.  Yet  we  determined  to  "  fold 
our  plaids  around  us  "  and  proceed.  I  could  not  enumerate 
to  you  all  our  perplexities  when  now  and  then  the  path  dis 
appeared  in  a  bog,  and  they  had  to  send  me  out  with  the 
lantern  on  every  side  to  try  to  rediscover  the  traces  of  foot 
steps  ;  but  at  length  we  came  to  the  ridge  of  the  hill  where 
all  the  different  paths  unite  in  one  distinct  one.  But  now 
we  were  assailed  by  a  new  fear.  We  had  already  called  into 
requisition  our  second  piece  of  candle,  and  as  the  wind  blew 
hard  there  seemed  every  prospect  that  it  would  blaze  away, 
if  it  did  not  meet  with  a  more  untimely  fate.  Add  to  this 
that  one  of  our  party  grew  very  fatigued,  and  we  had  to  halt 
continually ;  yet  in  spite  of  all  we  came  to  the  neck  of  the 
mountain,  on  each  side  of  which  are  very  steep  declivities, 
and  the  path  in  many  places  not  three  feet  wide,  and  passed 
it  quite  safely.  We  found  two  other  parties  at  the  top,  and 
took  refuge  in  one  of  the  cabins,  and  procured  some  coffee, 
^removing  as  many  of  our  wet  clothes  as  we  could.  Of  course 
we  gave  up  all  idea  of  a  view.  But  at  about  4  o'clock  there 
was  a  little  break  in  the  clouds,  and  though  this  immediately 
closed  again,  yet  on  going  out  some  few  minutes  after  I  saw 
a  little  peep  of  the  sea,  of  the  deepest  blue  ;  and  now  every 
minute  it  grew  larger,  and  then  a  mountain  top  appeared, 

106          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

and  another,  and  another,  till  the  whole  distance  was  clear. 
Every  shadow  was  a  deep  purple,  and  it  is  impossible  to 
conceive  anything  more  striking  than  the  contrast  between 
the  hills  and  the  bright  white  clouds  which  yet  floated  about 
their  summits.  But  while  looking  at  the  distance  we  noticed 
that  the  mist  in  the  valley  below  us  suddenly  began  to  roll 
like  a  great  sea,  and  in  less  time  almost  than  I  spend  in 
writing  they  were  cleared.  After  this  gleams  of  sunshine 
passed  over  different  parts  of  the  view,  now  lighting  up 
Harlech  Castle,  beautifully  situated  amongst  some  trees ; 
again  the  fertile  isle  of  Anglesea,  divided  like  a  map  into 
ten  thousand  little  squares.  We  gazed  and  gazed,  and  felt 
we  could  gaze  for  ever.  The  colours  were  so  strange  and 
beautiful,  and  all  seemed  so  fresh  and  clear,  as  they  always 
indeed  do  in  a  morning,  that  we  could  scarcely  return  and 
leave  so  much  that  was  grand ;  but  we  did,  and  experienced 
no  injury  from  our  expedition  save  a  day's  sleepiness. 

On  the  occasion  of  another  ascent  of  Snowdon, 
my  father  had  a  fall  and  cut  his  hand  badly.  The 
effect  of  this  fall  remained  with  him  through  life.  The 
middle  finger  of  his  right  hand  was  drawn  forward  on 
to  the  palm,  so  that  he  could  never  wear  a  glove  on 
that  hand,  nor  shake  hands  with  any  degree  of  comfort. 
He  just  mentions  this  accident  in  a  letter  to  his 
mother : — 

BEDDGELERT,  zist  September  1848. 

My  dear  Mother — I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  your 
note,  and  the  one  you  enclose  from  the  Major.1  If  all  be 
well  next  summer,  I  will  certainly  make  an  effort  to  see  him, 
and  this  "  Long "  has  been  so  pleasant  that  I  have  half 
resolved  to  visit  Scotland  next  year  in  the  same  way.  I 
shall  now  so  soon  be  at  home  again  that  I  am  quite  disin 
clined  to  write  long  notes,  and  when  I  went  up  Snowdon  last 
I  cut  my  hand,  so  that  it  is  still  difficult  to  hold  a  pen,  and 
this  is  a  fine  excuse  for  laziness.  .  .  . 

1  George  Foss  Westcott,  who  resided  at  Stirling. 

in  CAMBRIDGE:  GRADUATE  LIFE        107 

If  you  could  come  or  my  father,  I  would  with  pleasure 
stay  another  week  here,  for  I  think  I  shall  not  go  in  for  the 
Fellowship,  as  Scott  will  not,  for  he  has  been  unwell;  and  under 
any  circumstances  it  would  have  been  very  inconvenient  for 
me  to  have  returned  to  Cambridge  so  soon  as  the  2nd  of 
next  month.  .  .  . 

Tell  my  father  that  I  did  not  find  Woodsia,  but  I  have 
applied  to  the  "boots"  at  Dolbadarn,  and  he  promised  to 
procure  it  by  means  of  ropes. — Ever  believe,  my  dear  mother, 
your  most  affectionate  son,  BROOKE  F.  WESTCOTT. 

In  the  October  term  of  1848  Westcott  had  twelve 
private  pupils  ;  amongst  them  being  J.  B.  Lightfoot,  who 
had  gone  into  residence  at  Cambridge  the  previous 
October.  Lightfoot  also  had  been  educated  at  King 
Edward  VI.'s  School,  Birmingham.  He  had  not  known 
Westcott  in  his  school-days  ;  in  fact,  he  did  not  join  the 
school  until  the  term  after  Westcott  had  left.  He  knew 
him  by  repute,  however,  and  it  was  Westcott's  school 
and  college  reputation  that  induced  Lightfoot  to  seek 
his  tuition.  Neither  had  he  known  E.  W.  Benson, 
who  was  also  a  Birmingham  boy,  when  at  school. 
Benson  was  several  years  his  junior,  and  did  not  go 
up  to  Cambridge  until  after  Westcott  had  taken  his 
degree  ;  but  Benson  had  been  a  junior  contemporary 
of  Westcott  in  school -days,  and  had  as  a  little  boy 
noticed  how  Westcott,  the  head  of  the  school,  was, 
for  his  singular  merits,  allowed  the  unique  privi 
lege  of  resting  his  head  upon  his  hands  in  class. 
Following  Lightfoot's  example,  Benson  at  the  begin 
ning  of  his  second  year  placed  himself  under  the 
'guidance  of  his  successful  school-fellow.  It  was  at 
Cambridge  therefore,  and  not  at  Birmingham,  that  the 
lifelong  friendship  of  the  distinguished  trio  of  old 
Birmingham  boys  began,  and  its  foundations  were  laid 

io8          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

in  Westcott's  rooms  in  Neville's  Court.1  Speaking  of 
Westcott  as  his  private  tutor,  Benson  says  :  "  He  is  so 
kind,  so  patient,  so  industrious,  so  interested  in  one,  so 
clever,  and  so  highly  accomplished  (you  understand 
what  we  mean  by  accomplishments,  not  dancing  and 
flower  painting),  that  the  very  company  of  him  does  one 
good,  and  his  teaching  is  most  instructive.  He  is  an 
admirable  scholar,  and  has  the  gift  of  imparting  too."2 

Another  of  Westcott's  private  pupils  was  F.  J.  A. 
Hort.  With  these  three  my  father  was  intimately 
associated  for  the  rest  of  their  lives.  Though  they 
were  his  juniors  he  survived  them  all,  and  stood  as  a 
mourner  by  the  open  grave  of  each  one  of  them  in  suc 
cession.3  What  the  loss  of  friends  and  fellow-workers 
so  dear  meant  to  him  in  those  last  years  of  his  life 
none  can  tell. 

Westcott's  success  as  a  private  tutor  was  most 
remarkable.  His  pupils  found  in  him  far  more  than  a 
mere  "  coach,"  and  many  of  them,  besides  those  already 
mentioned,  remained  his  friends  through  life.  Dr. 
Whewell,  Master  of  Trinity  at  that  time,  thus  wrote  of 
him  : — "  Besides  being  a  very  excellent  scholar,  and  a 
person  of  great  learning  and  literature,  and  of  admirable 
character  and  agreeable  manners,  he  has  a  zeal  for  teach 
ing  which  is  quite  extraordinary.  The  pains  he  bestows 
upon  his  pupils  here  (private  pupils)  is  unparalleled,  and 
his  teaching  is  judicious  as  well  as  careful." 

At  this  period  my  father's  diary  is  mainly  composed 
of  quotations  from  his  daily  reading.  He  was  so 

1  Benson  and  Lightfoot  had  been  friends  at  school. 

2  Life  of  Archbishop  Benson^  i.  83. 

3  In  literal  truth  I  should  add  that  my  father  would  not  be  persuaded 
to  interfere  with  an  important  Diocesan  engagement,  so  that  he  was  only 
in  spirit  present  at  Archbishop  Benson's  funeral.     His  eldest  son  was  there 
as  his  representative. 

in  CAMBRIDGE:  GRADUATE  LIFE        109 

engrossed  with  his  pupils  that  he  found  time  for  little 
else.  Though  he  made  new  friends,  especially  among 
his  pupils,  he  sadly  missed  the  old  companions  of  his 
undergraduate  days.  One  of  his  new  friends  was 
H.  R.  Alder,1  who  was  also  engaged  in  private  tuition. 
None  of  his  pupils  are  ever  mentioned  in  his  diary. 

26th  October  ( Cambridge). — Begin  work  again,  and  am  very 
much  occupied.  Scarcely  any  time  for  thinking  or  reading, 
but  in  Chapel.  Every  night  I  am  thoroughly  tired.  I  am 
growing  careless.  Do  I  feel  this  ?  .  .  .  May  I  think  more 
of  TWV  e£w  TOV  Koa-fjLov  as  we  read  in  the  Phadrus.  We  all 
seem  in  one  great  whirl — ostentation. 

loth  November. — A  fortnight  has  passed  and  nothing 
seems  done.  ...  I  have  time  enough  if  I  had  energy.  .  .  . 
Mosses,  ferns,  and  everything  are  neglected. 

2$th  November. — Matt.  xii.  31,  32.2 

28^  November. — Arnold  is,  I  think,  quite  right  when  he 
says  that  the  true  revelation  of  the  Bible  is  original  righteous 
ness  and  not  original  sin.  All  our  notions  of  a  perfect  being 
are  inseparably  connected  with  sin  and  temptation.  We 
cannot  even  conceive  of  existence  unaffected  by  sin.  We  are 
inclined  to  prefer  holiness  to  innocence — that  which  has 
struggled  to  that  which  is  above  the  struggle. 

\Afth  December. — Return  to  Birmingham.  Am  detained 
some  few  hours  at  Peterborough.  Get  Elihu  Burritt's 
Sparks.  With  many  I  am  extremely  pleased.  .  .  . 
"  Mother,  mother  !  don't  let  them  carry  me  to  the  dark,  cold 
graveyard ;  but  bury  me  in  the  garden — in  the  garden,  mother." 


2\st  January  (Birmingham). — A  day  much  to  be  re 
membered.  The  state  of  thousands  may  depend  on  it.  Our 
most  trifling  actions  have  infinite  results ;  and  who  can 

1  Some  time  Dean  of  Cape  Town. 

2  This  unique  entry  indicates  that  he  was  troubled  in  thought  about  this 
passage  (Blasphemy  against  the  Spirit). 

no          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

calculate  the  effect  of  our  most  serious  resolves.1  May  the 
Holy  Spirit  rest  on  me  and  all  I  love  !  How  much  I  need 
Divine  assistance.  Never  was  I  more  conscious  of  weakness  ! 

2&th  January  (Cambridge). — To-day  I  have  been  regretting 
the  loss  of  my  old  companions.  One  after  another  they  have 
gone,  and  here  I  seem  desolate.  Yet  a  new  generation  has 
arisen,  and  with  it  new  duties.  May  I  discharge  them! 

1th  February. — A  blank  week.  Let  me  collect  its 
memories.  Neglected  or  hurried  duties,  or  yet  worse — may 
I  not  say  so  ? — duties  deferred.  And  what  resolutions  am  I 
prepared  to  make  now?  My  time  is  actually  not  my  own. 
This  must  not  be  again. 

i  ith  February. — A.2  to  tea.  Inspiration — Apostolical  Suc 
cession.  May  I  inquire  on  all  these  topics  with  simple  sincerity, 
seeking  only  the  truth  !  I  can  feel  not  only  the  influence  of 
interest,  but  perhaps  more  strongly  that  of  a  studied  origin 
ality  and  independence.  May  I  be  preserved  from  its  effects  ! 

2%th  February. — Tea  with  A.  A  long  conversation  on 
many  great  things.  .  .  .  Preaching — Residing  at  Cambridge 
— Pupils — Do  we  pray  for  them  ?  How  sincerely  I  wish  we 
could  feel  the  great  responsibility;  for  "no  man  liveth  to 

ioth  March. —  ...  A  poet  one  who  sees  into  the 
hidden  mysteries  of  things  and  expounds  them  so  that  they 
may  be  best  understood,  most  forcibly  expressed,  and  easiest 

~i.6th  March. — Go  to  the  Fitzwilliam,  and  feel  that  what 
Cowper  said  of  poets  is  true  indeed  of  painters.  How  little 
there  is  worthy  of  a  Christian  land,  or  a  Christian  man  !  One 
little  picture  of  a  saint  and  angel  by  Anni.  Caracci  strikes  me 
much.  I  could  believe  that  the  painter  felt  that  the  angel 
knew  a  road  to  heaven  which  the  pilgrim  did  not.  Thus  I 
thought : 

O  toilsome,  friendless  man  !  self-banished  thou 
From  all  the  joys  of  life  :  for  life  hath  joy 
In  earth  and  heaven,  whose  fresh  delights  employ 

Our  minds  with  wonder,  and  our  hearts  endow 

1  His  engagement  to  Miss  Whittard.  s  H.  R.  Alder. 

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in          CAMBRIDGE:  GRADUATE  LIFE        n 

With  praise  for  Him  who  made  them.     See  e'en  now 
The  sky  is  streaked  with  light,  and  tells  of  one 
From  whom  it  draws  its  glory.     Thus  our  sun 

Shines  on  each  dewdrop  on  earth's  robe.       Thy  brow 
Is  stern,  and  fixt  thy  gaze  ;  yet  by  thee  stands 
Bright-browed  an  angel  form,  whose  earnest  eye 
Rests  on  thy  mournful  look,  as  silently, 
To  teach  the  way  of  life,  he  turns  his  hands 
To  heaven  and  earth.     Such  is  our  destiny  : 

Men  need  our  love,  and  love  our  God  demands. 

25th  March. — To-day  I  begin  Coleridge's  Aids  seriously. 
Still  I  feel  at  starting  a  kind  of  prejudice,  not  against  the 
book,  but  against  the  man ;  because  he  seems  to  have  done 
so  little  compared  with  what  he  was  able  to  have  done.  But 
yet  writing  may  have  been  his  vocation,  and  then  why  are  all 
his  schemes  imperfect  ? 

2%th  March. — Peterborough  Cathedral  rouses  me  to  two 
little  effusions.1 

i8//fc  April. — My  rooms  are  decorated  with  my  piano, 
which  is  to  be  a  great  source  of  pleasure. 

\$th  May. — What  a  wild  storm  of  unbelief  seems  to  have 
seized  my  whole  system.  Literally  to-day  I  feel  "  alone  in  the 
world  " — but  for  the  few  minutes  I  heard  H.  Goodwin — "  In 
me  ye  shall  have  peace."  I  suppose  many  feel  as  I  do,  and 
yet  I  dare  look  nowhere  for  sympathy.  I  cannot  describe  the 
feeling  with  which  I  regard  the  hundreds  I  see  around  me 
who  conform  without  an  apparent  struggle — who  seem  ever 
cheerful,  ever  faithful  and  believing.  It  is  not  joy  and  satis 
faction  as  it  should  be,  it  is  not  envy,  but  it  is  a  kind  of  awe 
and  doubt — a  mixture  of  wonder  and  suspicion.  May  it  soon 
be  of  hearty  and  sincere  sympathy  ! 

1 6th  May. — How  utterly  false  the  dogma,  "  Where  mystery 
begins,  religion  ends  "  (Dr.  Foster).  Just  the  reverse  is  the 
case,  I  feel. 

*  2oth  May. —  .  .  .  Are  there  not  periods  in  our  life  corre 
sponding  to  the  divisions  of  the  N.T. — a  historic  dawning, 

1  One  of  these  is  printed  on  p.  132.     Westcott  usually  went  via  Peter 
borough  on  his  journeys  between  Birmingham  and  Cambridge. 

H2          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

a  historic  working,  a  spiritual  realisation  of  doctrine,  and  a 
mystic  revelation  of  the  future  ?  Wild  as  my  doubts  are,  I 
cannot  but  feel  that  the  N.T.  "  finds  "  me ;  and  that  with  its 
deepest  mysteries — but  as  mysteries,  not  as  dogmas.  Why 
should  we  be  surprised  at  the  fiery  trial  of  scepticism  ?  Have 
we  no  struggle  to  undergo  ?  I  should  more  reasonably  doubt 
my  safety,  if  I  did  not  doubt. 

2^th  July. — There  is  a  wide  difference  between  faith  and 
prudence.  What  could  appear  more  "  reasonable  "  than  the 
inquiry  of  Zachariah,  which  brought  his  punishment  ?  And 
thus  it  is  always.  Faith  is  an  intuition  —  a  momentary 
acknowledgment  of  the  heart,  spontaneous  and  perfect. 

In  the  summer  of  1849  my  father  visited  the 
Continent  for  the  first  time.  He  had  hoped  to  prevail 
on  his  father  to  accompany  him,  but  eventually  found 
himself  under  the  necessity  of  going  alone.  His  loneli 
ness  was  enlivened  by  encountering  a  revolution.  In  a 
letter  to  his  friend  Wickenden  he  thus  narrates  his 
experiences  : — 

My  entrance  into  Baden  was  highly  adventurous.  I  found 
myself  one  day  alone  at  Darmstadt  when  the  weather  was  hot 
and  the  town  dull,  and  though  I  was  aware  that  there  was 
some  fighting  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood,  it  seemed  out 
of  the  question  to  stay  in  such  a  wretched  place  without  a 
struggle  to  get  to  Heidelberg  or  Mannheim.  Well,  I  started 
by  railway  till  I  came  to  a  station  in  the  possession  of  Hessian 
troops.  Here  I  was  obliged  to  stop,  and  so  proceeded  to  the 
inn  at  Heppenheim,  which  was  their  headquarters.  It  was  a 
strange  sight  to  look  at  the  groups  of  officers,  and  the  mustering 
of  soldiers ;  to  hear  the  rappel  beating,  and  the  clattering 
of  horses,  as  the  orderlies  were  riding  about ;  but  at  length 
this  amusement  became  wearisome,  and  mustering  all  my 
German  and  all  my  courage,  I  inquired  for  some  conveyance 
to  take  me  to  Mannheim,  and  fortunately  found  a  German 
student  who  was  going  there  also ;  but  unhappily  he  did  not 
know  a  word  of  French.  However,  we  started  at  dusk,  and 

in  CAMBRIDGE:  GRADUATE  LIFE        113 

right  gladly  too,  though  we  were  soon  stopped  and  strictly 
examined.  But  all  was  right,  and  we  journeyed  along  the 
famous  Bergstrasse,  with  its  haunted  castles  silvered  by  the 
moon,  and  its  deep  sombre  avenues  lined  by  soldiers.  But 
then  the  scene  changed ;  we  came  to  a  little  village  which  I 
recognised  as  the  scene  of  a  sharp  skirmish  in  the  morning,  in 
which  the  rebels  had  been  victorious.  We  were  in  a  moment 
surrounded  by  a  troup  of  "  blouses,"  but  they  treated  us  very 
civilly,  and  so  we  were  fairly  admitted  into  their  territory  ; 
but  again  and  again  we  had  to  undergo  the  ordeal  of  examina 
tion.  Levelled  musquets,  peremptory  commands,  and  the 
comforting  "all  right"  were  the  accompaniments  of  every  turn 
of  the  road,  till  we  reached  Mannheim  early  in  the  morning, 
and  found  that  we  had  passed  through  the  headquarters  of 
both  armies  though  they  were  actually  at  war — an  adventure 
I  should  not  have  attempted  had  my  knowledge  been  as  great 
as  my  discontentment  at  Darmstadt.  The  whole  journey 
through  Baden  was  very  exciting.  The  people  seemed  to  have 
risen  to  a  man  ;  every  one  wore  the  German  tricolor.  The 
very  clerks  in  the  railway  offices  had  swords.  Nothing  could 
be  more  picturesque  than  the  conical  hats  and  feathers  ;  the 
sashes  and  old  musquets ;  the  whiskered  faces  and  reckless 
bearing  of  the  insurgents.  But  indeed  I  am  afraid  they  were 
hardly  equal  to  their  opponents,  and  their  escort  was  scarcely 
more  agreeable  than  that  of  an  equal  number  of  banditti. 
But  Switzerland  was  before  us,  and  we  reached  it  through  the 
Black  Forest  by  the  magnificent  pass  of  the  Hallenthal,  and 
so  to  Schaffhausen  and  the  Rhine-falls.  ...  I  returned  home 
by  Paris,  where  I  stayed  a  day,  and  saw  all  I  wanted  to  and 
more — an  unhappy  people  and  a  discontented  soldiery  ;  care 
lessness,  recklessness,  and  frivolity  ;  "  whirligigs  "  and  "  Punch 
and  Judy  "  in  the  Champs  Elysees  within  sight  of  the  Arc 
d'Etoile ;  and  crowds  of  "  National  Guards  "  staring  at  a  man 
on  stilts.  So  I  came  back  to  England  loving  her  a  thousand 
times  more  than  I  did  before. 

In    1849  my  father  won  the  Members'  Latin  Essay 
Prize  open  to  Bachelors   of  Arts,  and  was  elected  to  a 
Fellowship  at  Trinity  College. 
VOL.  I  I 

H4          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

During  the  same  year  and  in  the  earlier  part  of 
1850,  in  such  intervals  as  his  engrossing  tutorial 
labours  allowed,  he  was  engaged  in  writing  an  essay 
On  the  Alleged  Historical  Contradictions  of  the  Gospels, 
for  the  Norrisian  Prize.  The  essay  is  dated  I4th 
March  1850.  It  won  the  prize,  being  published  in 
1851  under  the  title  of  The  Elements  of  the  Gospel 
Harmony.  In  the  second  and  subsequent  editions  it 
was  named  An  Introduction  to  the  Study  of  the  Gospels. 
Under  this  name  it  has  been  widely  read  ;  in  fact, 
after  the  lapse  of  half  a  century,  this  essay,  written  by 
Westcott  at  the  age  of  twenty -five,  is  a  standard 
theological  work.  It  has  been  altered  in  details  and 
amplified  from  time  to  time,  but  in  principle  it  is 
the  same  as  when  originally  penned.1  As  a  com 
panion  volume  to  the  Gospel  Harmony,  Westcott  also 
projected  an  Apostolic  Harmony,  which  was  to  be  an 
introduction  to  the  study  of  the  Epistles.  This  work, 
however,  he  was  unable  to  complete. 

Westcott's  first  book  was  dedicated  to  his  father, 
who  was  very  proud  of  the  work.  As  a  rule,  Mr. 
F.  B.  Westcott's  letters  to  his  son  were,  save  for  a  few 
geological  passages,  almost  exclusively  of  a  botanical 
character,  but  on  this  occasion  he  is  wafted  into  other 
fields.  He  says  : — 

1  "  Directly  his  degree  was  obtained  and  his  fellowship  won,  he  turned 
his  mind  to  producing  theological  work  that  should  last,  and  within  a  year 
he  had  won  the  Norrisian  Prize,  which  cannot  be  given  till  the  essay  has 
been  printed  and  published.  It  is  to  this  rule  that  we  owe  the  late  Bishop's 
first  book,  Elements  of  the  Gospel  Harmony,  published  in  1851.  This 
work,  in  its  enlarged  form.  An  Introduction  to  the  Study  of  the  Gospels  (first 
edition,  1860  ;  eighth,  1894),  is  so  much  a  matter  of  course  to  every  theo 
logical  student  of  our  day,  that  men  do  not  stop  to  think  what  an  extra 
ordinary  tour  de  force  it  represents  as  coming  from  a  young  man  of  five- 
and-twenty.  From  the  Fathers  to  the  Germans  such  as  Sonntag  and 
Hagenbach,  Westcott  had  covered  the  whole  field  of  theological  literature, 
and  he  could  bring  to  the  discussion  thoughts  of  almost  Apostolic  depth 
and  insight." — The  Times,  29th  July  1901. 

in  CAMBRIDGE:  GRADUATE  LIFE        115 

I  have  read  your  book  several  times,  and  still  think  there 
is  no  fault  to  be  found  with  it  in  any  part.  The  only  thing 
that  strikes  me  is  that  the  matter  is  too  much  for  the  volume. 
There  is  sufficient  for  two  or  three  octavos.  I  delight  in  it  ; 
and  the  more  it  is  read  the  more  it  must  be  admired.  It  is 
not  a  work  for  the  million.  I  shall  be  very  anxious  to  see  the 
review  in  the  Edinburgh  or  in  any  other  good  publication.  I 
am  sure  it  will  take  a  stand  as  a  standard  work.  When  you 
have  letters  of  congratulation  from  such  men  as  Professor 
Maurice  and  Professor  Trench  and  many  others  whose  opinions 
are  worth  securing,  you  have  no  occasion  to  trouble  yourself 
about  these  puny  notices.  I  am  glad  you  are  engaged  to 
write  a  companion  volume;  but  at  present  I  have  not 
thoroughly  digested  this.  I  suppose  the  second  volume  will 
not  appear  for  at  least  twelve  months  ? 

What  the  Edinburgh  may  have  said  I  know  not  ; 
but  the  British  Quarterly  recognised  the  worth  of  the 
book,  and  says  : — 

It  is,  we  believe,  Mr.  Westcott's  first  publication.  It  does 
him  great  credit,  and  is  full  of  promise.  It  is  a  rare  thing  to 
find  so  much  ripeness  of  manner  and  substance  in  a  first 

In  the  summer  of  1850  my  father  went  with  a 
reading  party  to  Scotland.  Whether  he  visited  his 
aged  relative,  Major  George  Foss  Westcott,  who  resided 
at  Stirling,  or  not,  does  not  appear  ;  but  he  returned 
filled  with  admiration  for  Scotch  scenery  and  Scott's 
novels.  In  this  last  connexion  it  is  interesting  to 
notice  that  he  devoted  his  first  literary  earnings  to  the 
purchase  of  a  handsome  edition  of  Scott's  novels  as  a 
'present  to  his  wife. 

On  the  day  the  party  assembled  he  writes  in  his 
diary  : 

May  all  go  well  in  every  way !     It  is  impossible  not  to  feel 

n6          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

considerable  responsibility,  and  how  much  more  perhaps  at  some 
future  time  !  Yet  we  never  should  shrink  from  it.  If  we  seek 
fully  to  discharge  our  duty,  and  to  avail  ourselves  of  the  proper 
aid,  we  need  not  despair. 

Westcott  was  ordained  Deacon  on  i  5th  June  1851, 
in  the  parish  church  of  Prestwich,  by  his  old  master 
Dr.  J.  Prince  Lee,  Bishop  of  Manchester,  his  Trinity 
Fellowship  being  accepted  as  a  title.  But  he  was 
never  able  to  look  back  with  any  pleasure  on  the 
circumstances  of  his  ordination.  He  was  greatly  dis 
appointed  at  the  lack  of  fatherly  sympathy  for  which 
he  had  hoped,  and  grieved  at  the  general  undevotional 
character  of  the  proceedings.  He  was  unable  to  feel 
the  same  confidence  in  the  Bishop  of  Manchester  as  he 
had  felt  in  his  great  teacher.  On  2ist  December  of 
the  same  year  the  Bishop  of  Manchester  ordained  him 
Priest  in  the  church  of  Bolton-le-Moors. 

When,  in  1884,  he  was  present  at  the  ordination  of 
three  of  his  sons  by  Bishop  Lightfoot  in  Durham,  he 
remarked  to  them  on  the  happy  change  that  had  come 
over  these  ember  seasons.  He  said  then  that  he  had 
deeply  felt  the  cold  formality  of  his  own  ordination, 
and  had  especially  regretted  that  he  was  not  allowed 
even  to  retain  the  Bible  placed  in  his  hands  when  he 
was  commissioned.  Shabby  volume  as  it  was  exter 
nally,  he  would  have  treasured  it  beyond  all  other 
books,  had  it  not  been  sternly  taken  from  his  reluctant 
hands.  He  found  it  hard  on  other  accounts  than  this 
to  reverence  his  old  master  as  a  bishop,  and  could  with 
difficulty  be  persuaded  to  renew  his  intercourse  with 
him  in  after  years. 

In  spite  of  what  he  called  his  "  Puritanic  tempera 
ment,"  Westcott  always  delighted  in  congenial  society. 
He  was  essentially  affectionate  and  enthusiastic  in  any 

in  CAMBRIDGE:  GRADUATE  LIFE        117 

cause  which  invited  co-operation  and  served  some 
useful  purpose.  He  devoted  himself  with  ardour, 
during  his  last  year  at  Cambridge,  to  two  new  societies. 
One  of  these  was  the  "  Ghostlie  Guild  "  and  the  other 
the  "  Choral  Society."  The  "  Ghostlie  Guild,"  which 
numbered  amongst  its  members  A.  Barry,  E.  W.  Benson, 
H.  Bradshaw,  the  Hon.  A.  Gordon,  F.  J.  A.  Hort,  H. 
Luard,  and  C.  B.  Scott,  was  established  for  the  investi 
gation  of  all  supernatural  appearances  and  effects. 
Westcott  took  a  leading  part  in  their  proceedings,  and 
their  inquiry  circular  was  originally  drawn  up  by 
him.  He  also  received  a  number  of  communications 
in  response.  Outsiders,  failing  to  appreciate  the  fact 
that  these  investigators  were  in  earnest  and  only  seeking 
the  truth,  called  them  the  "  Cock  and  Bull  Club." 

One  of  my  father's  earliest  letters  to  Mr.  Hort  con 
cerns  this  Guild.  Writing  from  Bristol  in  January  1852, 
he  says : — 

I  am  sorry  I  have  delayed  so  long  to  write  to  you  about 
our  "ghostlie  circular,"  but  in  truth  I  have  had  very  little 
leisure  since  I  left  Cambridge ;  my  first  spare  time  was 
bestowed  on  the  revision  of  the  form  which  was  drawn  up  at 
our  discursive  meeting,  and  as  soon  as  the  task  was  accom 
plished,  I  sent  it  to  Benson ;  from  him  it  will  pass  to  Gordon, 
and  then  I  will  send  it  to  you ;  of  course  it  is  merely  pro- 
visionary,  but  when  anything  is  once  moulded  it  is  easy  to 
reshape  its  details.  I  expect  to  return  home  on  Saturday, 
and  then  possibly  I  may  find  time.  Perhaps  when  you 
receive  the  "  form  "  you  will  make  any  corrections  which 
occur  to  you  at  once  and  let  me  have  it  again  as  soon  as 
possible,  for  I  am  anxious  to  make  a  commencement  this 
Christmas.  I  had  a  note  from  Gordon  the  other  day,  and  he 
tells  me  that  he  has  an  admirably  authenticated  communica 
tion.  I  have  collected  very  little,  but  all  my  inquiries  have 
met  with  a  certain  sympathy,  which  shows  that  many  will 
echo  what  they  do  not  choose  to  say. 


n8          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

The  following  is  the  "  Ghostlie  Circular  "  in  its  final 
form.  It  gives  a  most  elaborate  classification  of 
"  supernatural "  phenomena,  and  in  conclusion  requests 
that  communications  be  addressed  to  Mr.  Westcott : — 

The  interest  and  importance  of  a  serious  and  earnest 
inquiry  into  the  nature  of  the  phenomena  which  are  vaguely 
called  "  supernatural "  will  scarcely  be  questioned.  Many 
persons  believe  that  all  such  apparently  mysterious  occur 
rences  are  due  either  to  purely  natural  causes,  or  to  delusions 
of  the  mind  or  senses,  or  to  wilful  deception.  But  there  are 
many  others  who  believe  it  possible  that  the  beings  of  the 
unseen  world  may  manifest  themselves  to  us  in  extraordinary 
ways,  and  also  are  unable  otherwise  to  explain  many  facts  the 
evidence  for  which  cannot  be  impeached.  Both  parties  have 
obviously  a  common  interest  in  wishing  cases  of  supposed 
"  supernatural  "  agency  to  be  thoroughly  sifted.  If  the  belief 
of  the  latter  class  should  be  ultimately  confirmed,  the  limits 
which  human  knowledge  respecting  the  spirit-world  has  hitherto 
reached  might  be  ascertained  with  some  degree  of  accuracy. 
But  in  any  case,  even  if  it  should  appear  that  morbid  or 
irregular  workings  of  the  mind  or  senses  will  satisfactorily 
account  for  every  such  marvel,  still  some  progress  would  be 
made  towards  ascertaining  the  laws  which  regulate  our  being, 
and  thus  adding  to  our  scanty  knowledge  of  an  obscure  but 
important  province  of  science.  The  main  impediment  to 
investigations  of  this  kind  is  the  difficulty  of  obtaining  a 
sufficient  number  of  clear  and  well-attested  cases.  Many  of 
the  stories  current  in  tradition,  or  scattered  up  and  down  in 
books,  may  be  exactly  true ;  others  must  be  purely  fictitious ; 
others  again,  probably  the  greater  number,  consist  of  a 
mixture  of  truth  and  falsehood.  But  it  is  idle  to  examine 
the  significance  of  an  alleged  fact  of  this  nature,  until  the 
trustworthiness,  and  also  the  extent,  of  the  evidence  for  it  are 
ascertained.  Impressed  with  this  conviction,  some  members 
of  the  University  of  Cambridge  are  anxious,  if  possible,  to 
form  an  extensive  collection  of  authenticated  cases  of 
supposed  "  supernatural "  agency.  When  the  inquiry  is  once 
commenced,  it  will  evidently  be  needful  to  seek  for  informa- 

in          CAMBRIDGE:  GRADUATE  LIFE        119 

tion  beyond  the  limits  of  their  own  immediate  circle.  From 
all  those,  then,  who  may  be  inclined  to  aid  them  they  request 
written  communications,  with  full  details  of  persons,  times, 
and  places  ;  but  it  will  not  be  required  that  names  should  be 
inserted  without  special  permission,  unless  they  have  already 
become  public  property;  it  is,  however,  indispensable  that 
the  person  making  any  communication  should  be  acquainted 
with  the  names,  and  should  pledge  himself  for  the  truth 
of  the  narrative  from  his  own  knowledge  or  conviction. 

The  first  object,  then,  will  be  the  accumulation  of  an 
available  body  of  facts :  the  use  to  be  made  of  them  must 
be  a  subject  for  future  consideration  ;  but,  in  any  case,  the 
mere  collection  of  trustworthy  information  will  be  of  value. 
And  it  is  manifest  that  great  help  in  the  inquiry  may  be  derived 
from  accounts  of  circumstances  which  have  been  at  any  time 
considered  "  supernatural,"  and  afterwards  proved  to  be  due 
to  delusions  of  the  mind  or  senses,  or  to  natural  causes 
(such,  for  instance,  as  the  operation  of  those  strange  and 
subtle  forces  which  have  been  discovered  and  imperfectly 
investigated  in  recent  times) ;  and,  in  fact,  generally,  from 
any  particulars  which  may  throw  light  indirectly,  by  analogy 
or  otherwise,  on  the  subjects  with  which  the  present  investiga 
tion  is  more  expressly  concerned. 

What  happened  to  this  Guild  in  the  end  I  have  not 
discovered.  My  father  ceased  to  interest  himself  in 
these  matters,  not  altogether,  I  believe,  from  want  of 
faith  in  what,  for  lack  of  a  better  name,  one  must  call 
Spiritualism,  but  because  he  was  seriously  convinced 
that  such  investigations  led  to  no  good. 

With  the  October  term  of  1851  Westcott's  residence 
at  Cambridge  ended  ;  for  in  January  1852  he  undertook 
temporary  work  at  Harrow  School.  His  departure 
from  Cambridge  caused  some  distress  to  his  new-found 
friends.  In  a  long  letter,  dated  2 1st  February  1852,  Mr. 
Hort  describes  the  doings  of  the  "  Ghostlie  Guild  "  and 
the  "  Choral  Society "  in  his  absence.  His  original 

120          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

circular  in  the  matter  of  spiritual  phenomena  had  been 
"  unceremoniously  set  aside  "  for  divers  reasons,  not  the 
least  of  which  was  that  it  contained  words  and  phrases 
"  unintelligible  or  alarming  to  the  general."  As  to  the 
Choral  Society,  it  had  been  decided  to  put  off  Judas 
Maccabceus  "  for  this  term  at  least,  as  you  are  not 
with  us."  That  his  voice  should  have  been  so  much 
missed  comes  rather  as  a  surprise  to  members  of  his 
family,  who  have  never  held  his  vocal  efforts  in  high 
esteem.  His  singing  in  later  years  was,  in  fact,  such 
that  it  was  difficult  to  determine  what  tune  he  was 
endeavouring  to  execute.  But  in  earlier  years 
apparently  it  was  not  so.  He  took  singing  lessons, 
and  was  pronounced  to  be  a  tenor.  "  I  wish  you 
could  hear,"  continued  Hort,  "  the  numerous  regrets 
expressed  at  the  news  of  your  absence  for  the  term. 
Gordon  told  me  that  when  he  mentioned  it  to  Benson, 
Benson  stood  rapt  like  a  Sybil,  uttering  solemnly  the 
words,  *  Oh  !  what  a  bore '  at  intervals  of  half  a  minute." 

But  my  father  had  fully  determined  to  withdraw 
from  Cambridge  and  enter  on  other  fields  of  educational 
work  where  a  wife  could  help  him.  His  first  idea  was 
to  be  a  candidate  for  the  Headmastership  of  Exeter 
Grammar  School  ;  but  he  was  dissuaded.  Then  in 
December  1851  he  forwarded  his  testimonials  as  a 
candidate  for  the  Principalship  of  Victoria  College, 
Jersey,  which  was  a  new  institution  seeking  its  first 
guide.  In  the  covering  letter  he  says  :  "  It  would  be 
quite  out  of  place  for  me  to  make  any  profession  of 
my  own  hope  or  intentions.  At  Birmingham  I  certainly 
learnt  to  value  school  influence  and  school  training, 
and  every  one  must  wish  to  extend  any  privilege  which 
he  has  himself  enjoyed  and  prizes  most  highly." 

The   testimonials  were  ten   in   number.     They  are 

in  CAMBRIDGE:   GRADUATE  LIFE        121 

interesting  as  showing -how  Westcott's  contemporaries, 
old  and  young,  regarded  him.  I  therefore  reproduce 
some  selected  passages  from  them. 

Dr.  J.  Prince  Lee,  Bishop  of  Manchester,  under 
whose  tuition  Westcott  had  been  for  the  last  six  years 
of  his  school  life  at  Birmingham,  says  :— 

Mr.  Westcott  was  uniformly  distinguished  by  a  regular 
and  habitual  discharge  of  every  duty  required  in  the  school, 
a  steady  and  unwearied  industry,  and  constant  desire  to 
improve.  His  progress  both  in  classical  and  mathematical 
knowledge  was  most  honourable  and  satisfactory  in  every 
respect.  The  prizes  and  marks  of  distinction  he  obtained 
were  very  numerous,  indeed  almost  more  than  any  one  of 
his  companions  ever  gained,  while  his  desire  to  give  all 
satisfaction  to  those  he  was  placed  under  gained  him  their 
regard  and  good- will.  But  his  reading  was  far  from  confined 
to  that  required  by  the  routine  business  of  the  school.  It 
was  at  once  extensive  and  accurate.  In  drawing,  too,  he  was 
very  successful.  I  well  remember  the  pleasure  derived  by 
myself  and  the  other  masters  from  the  accuracy  of  his 
examination  in  different  subjects. 

Of  his  University  career  I  say  nothing.  It  speaks  best  for 

Educated  in  a  large  public  school,  distinguished  at  Cam 
bridge,  popular  and  of  large  experience  as  a  private  tutor,  of 
unimpeachable  character,  indefatigable  zeal  in  the  pursuit  of 
knowledge,  clear  and  precise  in  apprehending  and  imparting 
it,  and  actuated  by  a  high  sense  of  duty,  Mr.  Westcott 
presents  claims  for  consideration  on  the  part  of  the  electors 
to  any  appointment  connected  with  education  which  he  may 
seek  such  as  few  can  hope  to  see  realised  in  any  one 

The  Rev.  W.  H.  Thompson,  Senior  Tutor  (after 
wards  Master)  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  says  : — 


122          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

I  examined  Mr.  Westcott  both  when  he  obtained  a 
Trinity  Scholarship  and  when  one  of  the  Chancellor's  gold 
medals  was  awarded  to  him  in  the  year  1848,  and  on  both 
occasions  I  was  greatly  impressed  with  the  proofs  he  gave  of 
capacity  and  attainment.  In  the  medal  examination  he 
showed  very  extensive  reading,  very  accurate  scholarship, 
and  great  power  of  rendering  the  meaning  of  the  classical 
writers  in  good  and  appropriate  English.  His  Greek  and 
Latin  compositions,  both  prose  and  verse,  were  correct, 
elegant,  and  spirited,  and  in  all  respects  he  approved  him 
self  a  scholar,  as  compared  with  scholars,  of  more  than 
the  usual  accomplishments,  and  much  more  than  usual 

Since  he  was  elected  Fellow  Mr.  Westcott  has  applied 
himself  with  characteristic  ardour  to  theological  studies,  of 
which  he  has  given  the  world  good  earnest,  in  a  publication 
which  contains  the  result  of  much  original  research,  aided  by 
an  acute  intellect,  and  animated  by  religious  feeling  and  a 
sincere  love  of  truth. 

I  must  not  omit  to  add  that  he  has  devoted  a  considerable 
portion  of  his  time  to  the  instruction  of  private  pupils  (both 
classical  and  mathematical),  and  that  he  has  discharged  this 
duty  with  a  zeal,  assiduity,  and  success  of  which  I  have  seen 
very  few  examples.  The  love  of  teaching  is  evidently  as 
strong  a  passion  with  Mr.  Westcott  as  the  love  of  learning 
itself;  and  with  the  talent  of  communicating  knowledge  he 
possesses  the  power  in  no  ordinary  degree  of  influencing  the 
moral  taste  and  the  conduct  of  those  entrusted  to  his 

On  the  whole,  I  recommend  him  to  the  electors  with  a 
confidence  perfect  and  unqualified ;  for  after  much  con 
sideration  I  can  think  of  no  characteristic  of  an  eminent 
teacher  and  head  of  a  college  which  he  does  not  possess  in 
a  remarkable  degree.  I  should  have  no  fear  for  the  future 
fortunes  of  an  institution  whose  infancy  was  entrusted  to  the 
care  of  one  so  judicious,  so  conscientious,  and  so  able. 

The  Rev.  H.  W.  Beatson,  Fellow  and  Classical 
Lecturer  of  Pembroke  College,  Cambridge,  who  was 

in  CAMBRIDGE:   GRADUATE   LIFE        123 

an    examiner  for   the    Classical    Tripos    in    the    years 
1839-40  and  1846-49,  says: — 

I  consider  Mr.  Westcott  to  have  shown  as  complete  and 
accurate  a  knowledge  of  the  Greek  and  Latin  languages  as 
any  candidate  for  classical  honours  ever  obtained  in  all  the 
six  years  for  which  I  have  examined.  I  found  his  per 
formances  in  translation  from  Greek  and  Latin  to  be  of  first- 
rate  excellence.  He  seemed  to  have  read  nearly  every  extract 
proposed,  but  in  those  which  I  judged  he  had  not  read,  his 
critical  sagacity,  and  all  but  vernacular  knowledge  of  the 
languages,  enabled  him  to  accomplish  his  task  in  a  masterly 
manner.  No  shade  of  meaning  escaped  his  perspicacity; 
every  particle  and  every  significant  syllable  of  a  compound 
received  its  due  development ;  inversion  was  employed  when 
effective,  and  the  periodic  style  of  an  original  preserved,  yet 
without  losing  sight  of  perspicuity.  His  English  was 
judiciously  varied  to  suit  the  character  of  his  original,  and 
it  gave  evidence  of  a  wide-ranging  and  accurate  acquaintance 
with  our  own  early  national  literature.  His  compositions  in 
Greek  and  Latin  were  such  as  I  have  never  seen  surpassed, 
and  never  hope  I  shall  see.  He  changed  his  Greek  or  Latin 
prose  style  with  the  greatest  versatility  according  to  the 
nature  of  the  English  passage,  evincing  a  close  and  critical 
attention  to  the  manner  and  style  of  the  best  Greek  and 
Latin  authors.  He  improved  connections  and  developed 
ideas  by  compounding,  and  succeeded  in  giving  a  close 
portrait  of  his  original,  yet  with  all  the  appearance  of  an 
original  composition  from  its  seeming  ease  and  freedom. 
In  verse  passages  he  omitted  nothing,  and,  what  is  much 
harder,  he  added  nothing,  representing  every  thought  and 
every  epithet  of  his  original  with  accurate  equivalents,  yet 
felicitous  in  avoiding  expansions  and  additions  which  our 
first-rate  composers  seldom  refrain  from  allowing  themselves. 
Though  the  examination  did  not  then  give  as  much  oppor 
tunity  as  it  does  now  for  the  discovery  of  a  candidate's 
collateral  knowledge,  still  his  papers  contained  traces  of 
extensive  and  accurate  researches  into  ancient  history, 
geography,  and  the  manners  and  opinions  of  those  ages. 

124          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

In  the  whole  compass  of  my  papers  his  vigilance  was  such 
that  he  never  once  committed  himself  by  omission  or  error, 
other  than  of  the  most  impalpable  description,  such  as  only 
the  lynx  eye  of  an  examiner  would  detect. 

Mr.  W.  Walton,  Fellow  of  Trinity  College,  Cam 
bridge,  author  of  treatises  on  Co-ordinate  Geometry 
and  Differential  Calculus,  Mechanics,  Hydrostatics,  etc., 
says  : — 

I  have  no  hesitation  in  declaring  that  Mr.  Westcott  has 
acquired  a  very  exact  and  critical  knowledge  of  all  the 
academic  branches  of  mathematics  and  natural  philosophy, 
and  that  he  uniformly  displayed  much  vigour  of  conception, 
as  well  as  a  very  refined  and  elegant  taste,  in  the  form  of  his 
mathematical  reasonings.  I  may  perhaps  be  allowed  to  add 
that,  bearing  in  mind  not  only  his  singular  clearness  of 
thought  and  power  of  luminous  exposition,  but  also  the 
urbanity  and  kindness  of  manner  which,  as  a  member  of  my 
class,  he  always  exhibited  towards  me,  I  feel  assured  that  he 
would  be  most  valuable  as  a  professor,  and,  as  a  principal  of 
a  college,  most  agreeable  to  a  body  of  professors. 

The  next  selected  testimonial  is  from  one  of  his 
pupils.  It  is  given  in  full  :— 

Gentlemen — Confident  that  Mr.  Westcott  will  have  the 
testimony  of  more  mature  judges  to  his  fitness  for  the  office 
which  is  now  at  your  disposal,  I  shall  yet  venture,  on  the 
ground  of  the  great  opportunities  which  I  have  had  of  form 
ing  an  opinion  from  personal  intercourse,  to  claim  from  you 
a  hearing,  which  otherwise  it  would  have  been  presumptuous 
in  me  to  expect. 

Influenced  by  Mr.  Westcott's  school  and  university  reputa 
tion,  I  applied  to  him  early  in  my  undergraduateship  to  allow 
me  to  read  with  him  as  a  private  pupil.  From  that  time 
forward  I,  at  different  periods,  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  his 
instruction  in  classics.  The  general  success  of  Mr.  Westcott's 

in  CAMBRIDGE:  GRADUATE  LIFE        125 

pupils  is  a  far  more  valuable  comment  on  his  abilities  as  a 
tutor  than  any  individual  case  can  be  ;  yet  I  can  bear  personal 
testimony  to  the  soundness  of  the  system  which  he  pursued 
in  the  interpretation  of  classical  authors,  and  where  deeper 
thought  and  more  patient  investigation  were  required,  I  found 
his  assistance  invaluable.  As  Mr.  Westcott  is  the  only  private 
tutor  from  whom  I  have  received  classical  instruction  in 
Cambridge,  I  feel  bound  to  say  that  I  am  indebted  to  him 
for  my  University  success. 

But  I  should  do  injustice  to  him  were  I  to  stop  here. 
Much  as  I  value  his  guidance  in  this  respect,  I  feel  far  more 
grateful  to  him  for  imparting  to  me  higher  principles  both  of 
thought  and  of  action,  by  which  I  hope  to  be  guided  here 
after.  I  am  but  one  among  many  who  can  bear  testimony 
to  Mr.  Westcott's  universal  kindness  and  the  warm  interest 
which  he  takes  in  the  well-doing  of  his  pupils.  We  have 
been  accustomed  to  look  to  him  for  advice  in  all  our 
difficulties,  and  have  ever  found  in  him  a  wise  counsellor  and 
a  firm  friend. 

Under  the  conviction  that  those  qualities  which  have  won 
him  the  affectionate  respect  of  all  who  know  him  cannot  fail 
to  render  him  most  efficient,  under  Providence,  as  the 
Principal  of  the  College  of  which  you  are  administrators,  I 
beg  to  subscribe  myself,  gentlemen,  your  obedient  servant, 


Scholar  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge, 

Senior  Classic,  and 
Senior  Chancellor's  Medalist,  1851. 

Last  of  all,  though  by  no  means  the  least  interesting, 
comes  the  testimonial  from  his  past  and  present  pupils. 
It  was  apparently  drafted  by  E.  W.  Benson.  They 
say  :— 

Understanding  that  Mr.  Westcott  wishes  to  become  a 
candidate  for  the  office  at  present  in  your  gift,  we,  the  under 
signed  late  and  present  pupils  of  that  gentleman  at  Cam 
bridge,  beg  to  offer  you  our  testimony  with  respect  to  his 
qualifications  as  a  teacher. 

126          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

Several  of  us  who  remember  him  as  occupying  the  position 
of  head  boy  in  one  of  the  public  schools,  and  have  therefore 
watched  with  special  interest  his  brilliant  career  in  this 
University,  have  throughout  had  occasion  to  admire  his 
constant  and  high -principled  application  to  the  duties  of 
the  several  positions  in  which  he  has  been  placed ;  and  we 
all  can  testify  that  the  high  character  which  these  particular 
qualifications  have  gained  for  him  in  this  place  is  in  all 
points  borne  out  by  our  own  intimate  and,  in  most  cases, 
daily  observation. 

To  Mr.  Westcott's  scholarship  and  acquirements  you  will 
doubtless  receive  more  satisfactory  testimony  than  ours  can 
appear  to  be.  We  may  at  least  say  that  his  familiarity  with 
the  classical  authors,  and  his  accurate  knowledge  of  both  their 
sentiments  and  language,  are  most  striking. 

Several  of  us  have  also  carried  on  our  mathematical 
reading,  either  wholly  or  in  part,  with  Mr.  Westcott's 
direction  and  assistance,  and  can  bear  testimony  to  the 
ability  and  efficiency  of  his  teaching  in  that  department. 

Of  those  higher  points  of  character  which,  as  they  belong 
to  the  scholar  and  gentleman,  so  ought  in  an  especial  manner 
to  be  united  in  the  headmaster  of  a  public  school,  we  venture 
respectfully  to  speak.  Mr.  Westcott  possesses  in  a  high 
degree  that  firmness  and  evenness  of  temper  which  most 
become  the  holder  of  such  an  office.  He  has  ever  taken  a 
most  affectionate  interest  in  our  progress  and  welfare,  and 
been  at  all  times  ready  to  give  us  both  sympathy  and  counsel. 
He  has  imparted  great  life  and  spirit  to  our  ordinary  work  by 
the  energy  and  talent  with  which  he  engages  in  it,  by  con 
stantly  leading  us  to  exercise  original  thought  in  the  various 
branches  of  our  studies,  and  by  making  them  mutually  com 
bine  and  illustrate  one  another.  He  has  also  engaged  and 
assisted  us  in  other  pursuits  besides  those  which  lie  directly 
before  us,  and  more  particularly  has  by  his  example  and 
conversation  incited  us  to  a  close  and  critical  study  of  the 
Greek  Testament,  and  given  most  valuable  aid  in  that  study 
to  those  who  have  wished  it.  In  conclusion,  we  venture  to 
say  that  some  of  the  most  happily,  as  well  as  profitably,  em 
ployed  hours  of  our  University  course  have  been  those  spent 
under  Mr.  Westcott's  tuition,  and  respectfully  yet  confidently 

in  CAMBRIDGE:  GRADUATE   LIFE        127 

to  assure  you  that  we  believe  no  person  could  be  found  better 
qualified  than  Mr.  Westcott  both  to  preside  over  a  public 
institution  and  to  impart  sound  knowledge  in  an  able  and 
judicious  manner. 


FENTON  J.  A.  HORT,  B.  A.,  Scholar  of  Trinity  College. 
J.  B.  LIGHTFOOT,  B.A.,  Scholar  of  Trinity  College. 
GEORGE  M.  GORHAM,  B.A.,  Scholar  of  Trinity  College. 
GEORGE  CuBirr,1  B.A.,  Trinity  College. 
CHRISTOPHER  B.  HUTCHINSON,  B.A.,  Scholar  of  St. 

John's  College,  and  Assistant  Classical  Master  of 

Marlborough  College. 
C.  R.  MOORSOM,  Jun.,  B.A. 

J.    F.   WlCKENDEN,  B.A. 

T.  MIDDLEMORE  WHiTTARD,  B.A,  Trinity  College. 

R.  M.  MOORSOM,  Trinity  College. 

CHAS.  J.  BEARD,  Trinity  College. 

E.  W.  BENSON,  Scholar  of  Trinity  College. 

A.  A.  ELLIS,  Scholar  of  Trinity  College. 

J.  T.  PEARSE,  Scholar  of  Trinity  College. 

R.  M.  BINGLEY,  Trinity  College. 

J.  FENN,  Scholar  of  Trinity  College. 

J.  R.  BLAKISTON,  Scholar  of  Trinity  College. 

Besides  the  formal  testimonials,  which  included  one 
from  the  Master  and  Fellows  of  Trinity  College,  the 
Master  of  Trinity  wrote  a  private  letter,  a  part  of 
which  has  been  already  quoted,  in  which  he  says : 
"  I  hardly  seem  to  have  said  enough  in  favour  of 
Mr.  Westcott's  talents,  scholarship,  good  judgment, 
good  temper,  learning,  and  love  of  teaching." 
The  parties  responsible  for  the  selection  of  the 
first  Principal  of  Jersey  College  were  not,  however, 
convinced  by  these  testimonials,  but  invited  Westcott 

1  The  present  Lord  Ashcombe. 

128          LIFE  OF  BISHOP   WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

and  two  other  selected  candidates  to  come  over  to  the 
island  for  further  inspection.  This,  however,  Westcott 
was  not  minded  to  do,  and  withdrew  his  candidature. 
In  this  connexion  he  received  a  characteristic  letter 
from  his  father,  who  says  :  "  It  certainly  would  not  have 
been  well  to  have  been  beaten  by  your  inferiors,  and  to 
go  to  Jersey  for  the  purpose."  But  it  was  no  fear  of 
defeat  that  deterred  Westcott  from  facing  the  Jersey 
ordeal,  for  he  had  been  assured  in  confidence  that  the 
majority  of  the  electors  were  in  his  favour,  and  had 
received  a  private  letter  which  assured  him  that  his 
"  election  at  Jersey "  was  "  certain."  He  withdrew 
simply  from  a  sense,  derived  from  his  brief  Harrow 
experience,  of  his  own  unfitness  for  the  position.  He 
states  this  clearly  in  a  letter  to  Lightfoot,  dated  Qth 
March  1852  :— 

My  dear  Lightfoot— As  the  representative  of  my  old  pupils, 
I  must  write  to  you  to  tell  you  the  final  decision  which  I  have 
made  about  my  future  work.  I  have  accepted  an  assistant- 
mastership  at  Harrow,  and  abandoned  all  thought  of  Jersey. 
Yesterday  evening  I  received  a  note  from  Dr.  Jeune  wishing 
me  to  meet  the  Governors  in  Jersey  as  one  of  three  selected 
candidates.  I  was  glad  to  take  the  opportunity  of  withdraw 
ing,  for  my  experience  here  has  taught  me  how  utterly  unfit  I 
am  for  the  independent  management  of  a  great  school.  Here 
I  have  learnt  to  feel  my  own  deficiencies  most  keenly,  and  I 
have  found  too  those  who  are  willing  and  able  to  teach  and 
to  train  me.  For  my  own  part,  I  have  no  doubt  that  I  have 
made  a  wise  choice.  I  have  not  a  misgiving,  and  I  feel  sure 
that  you  and  all  my  friends  will  agree  with  me.  There  is  a 
work  here  to  be  done,  and  by  God's  blessing  I  hope  that  I 
may  be  enabled  to  help  in  doing  it.  For  this  my  youth  and 
power  is  better  fitted  than  for  the  office  of  a  governor.  I 
wonder  now  at  my  presumption.  Will  you  kindly  tell  any 
other  of  my  old  pupils,  who  may  be  likely  to  take  an  interest 
in  my  decision,  of  the  task  which  I  have  chosen. 

in  CAMBRIDGE:  GRADUATE  LIFE        129 

So  he  decided  once  for  all  to  give  up  all  idea  of  a 
headship,  and  to  be  an  assistant-master.  In  acknow 
ledging  my  father's  decision  to  remain  at  Harrow,  Dr. 
Vaughan  writes  : — 

That  you  should  be  willing  to  come  and  work  with  me,  so 
little  worthy  to  be  above  you,  and  when  a  field  of  independent 
and  important  labour  seemed  to  be  open  to  your  choice 
elsewhere,  is  far  more  than  I  can  think  of  without  surprise — 
but  much  more,  with  deep  thankfulness.  In  one  thing  only  do 
I  regret  the  words  which  I  uttered  last  night,  namely,  when 
I  seemed  to  generalise  about  young  and  untried  men  for  great 
and  responsible  posts  like  mine.  Be  assured  that  it  was  of 
myself  alone  that  I  was  then  thinking — NOT  of  you.  Oh,  far 
from  it ;  and  if  such  an  idea  crossed  your  mind,  do  not  let  it 
weigh  with  you  for  one  moment  in  taking  your  resolution. 

His  decision,  however,  was  already  made,  and  he 
never  swerved  from  his  determination  to  be  content 
with  a  subordinate  position.  In  view,  however,  of  the 
letter  which  he  wrote  to  Benson  l  on  the  very  day  on 
which  he  had  his  evening  talk  with  the  Headmaster,  it 
is  hard  to  resist  the  conclusion  that  Dr.  Vaughan's 
words  must  have  carried  great  weight  and  have  further 
impressed  him  with  a  sense  of  his  unfitness. 

During  the  later  years  of  his  Cambridge  residence, 
more  particularly  in  vacation  time,  Westcott  wrote 
several  short  poems.  Several  of  these  he  himself  has 
copied  into  a  notebook,  but  the  majority  are  scribbled 
in  pencil  on  odd  half-sheets  of  notepaper.  They  were 
not  intended  for  publication  ;  but  as  they  all  belong  to 
this  period  of  his  life,  and  are  characteristic  of  it,  it 
seems  right  to  place  a  few  of  them  before  his  friends. 

Two  pieces  are  included  in  a  somewhat  remarkable 
(dare  I  say  mystical  ?)  fragment  of  prose.  The  writer 

1  See  p.  171. 
VOL.  I  K 

130          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

of  this  fragment,  after  a  dangerous  mountain  climb, 
finds  refuge  in  a  religious  hospice.  He  and  a  monk, 
his  companion,  are  standing  in  the  moonlit  chapel 
near  to  a  child's  grave.  The  light  streaming  through 
the  window  throws  "  rainbow  colours  on  the  little 
tomb."  "  '  For  my  part,'  says  his  companion,  *  I  com 
monly  pass  by  the  monuments  of  priests  and  knights 
and  rest  before  yonder  figure  of  a  child.  Come,  let 
us  stand  beside  it  while  we  listen  to  the  children's 
hymn.'  .  .  . 

"  Father  !  in  the  lonely  night, 

Shield  us  from  harm ! 
Shield  us  till  the  morning  light 
Beneath  Thine  arm. 

Evening  closes  o'er  our  way  ; 

Our  rest  is  far  : 
Guide  us,  Father,  lest  we  stray, 

By  some  bright  star. 

Hear,  oh  hear  Thy  children's  prayer 

In  heaven  above, 
Till  we  see  our  Saviour  there, 

And  sing  His  love. 

Hear  us,  shield  us,  guide  us  home : 

In  pity  see 
Wandering  steps,  for  we  would  come, 

Father !  to  Thee. 

"  I  awoke,  and  lo  !  the  sun  was  shining  through  the 
window  of  my  chamber,  which,  like  that  of  the  pilgrim 
Christian,  looked  to  the  east,  and  a  band  of  choristers 
were  singing  merrily  in  the  garden  below ;  and  I 
thought  I  recognised  the  voices  of  my  former  little 
friends  as  I  caught  the  following  words  : — 

in          CAMBRIDGE:  GRADUATE  LIFE        131 

"  Wake  !  the  western  hills  are  flushed 

With  the  rosy  glow  of  day. 
Wake  !  the  night-bird's  song  is  hushed, 
And  the  stars  have  died  away. 

Wake  !  before  the  earth  resigns 

All  her  freshness  to  the  sky ; 
Wake  !  while  yet  the  hare-bell  shines 

Jemmed  with  crystal  jewelry. 

Wake  !  the  morning's  early  strain 
Calls  thee  from  the  woods  above ; 

Wake  !  and  join  a  childly  train 
Journeying  to  the  home  of  love. 

Onward  we  must  journey  still, 

Onward  to  that  distant  land, 
Onward  over  rock  and  rill, 

Moor  and  mountain,  hand  in  hand. 

" '  Surely  this  is  an  enchanted  spot/  I  said  to 
myself ;  *  everything  seems  to  fill  me  with  hope  and 
zeal.  A  song  of  trustfulness  and  faith  lulled  me  to 
sleep  last  night,  and  a  song  of  simple  energy  wakes 
me  now.  Would  that  each  day  spoke  so  at  its  rise 
and  close,  and  found  a  true  echo  in  my  own  heart ! ' " 

GOOD  FRIDAY  (1849) 

Oh  no  !   I  cannot  weep  to-day, 

When  Nature  holds  communion  high, 

When  Earth  assumes  a  bright  array, 

The  lustre  of  the  glorious  sky  : 

When  sparkling  stream,  and  fitful  gleam, 

Unite  in  mystic  harmony. 

I  cannot  even  pray,  for  now 

My  soul  is  lost  in  voiceless  praise, 

132          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

When  I  behold  yon  mountain's  brow 
So  calmly  grand,  and  while  I  gaze 
On  each  gay  flower,  or  each  green  bower 
O'erchequered  by  the  leafy  maze. 

There  is  a  joy  more  deep  than  grief, 

More  solemn  than  a  prayerful  sigh, 

When  the  full  spirit  seeks  relief 

In  silent  swelling  ecstasy  ; — 

No  words  can  teach,  no  tears  can  reach 

The  depths  of  our  humanity. 


The  brightness  of  a  falling  star  ? 
A  ray  of  glory  from  afar, 
Amid  the  wreck  of  things  that  are  ?- 
Not  such  is  life. 

The  pathway  of  the  silent  tomb, 
Trodden  in  sorrow,  sin,  and  gloom  ? 
A  sunless  road,  a  joyless  doom  ? — 
Not  such  is  life. 

No  sage's  rule,  no  poet's  lay, 
No  idle  stage  of  vain  display, 
No  terror-house  of  grim  dismay — 
Not  such  is  life. 

No  dark  spot  in  a  flood  of  light, 
No  lone  ray  in  the  boundless  night ; 
But  with  reflected  glory  bright — 
Oh,  such  is  life. 

An  island  in  the  world's  wide  sea, 
Begirt  by  Providence  to  be 
The  birthplace  of  Futurity —  * 
Oh,  such  is  life. 

in          CAMBRIDGE:  GRADUATE  LIFE        133 

A  rainbow  arch  in  mercy  given, 
Amid  Time's  storm-clouds  tempest-driven, 
To  span  the  earth  and  rest  in  heaven — 
Oh,  such  is  life. 

A  birth,  a  death,  a  mystery, 

An  earnest  of  eternity, 

A  truth,  a  work  of  charity — 

Oh,  such  is  life. 

A  work  of  patience,  hope,  and  love  ; 
Our  struggle  here,  our  God  above  ; 
With  sin  to  foil,  and  faith  to  prove — 
Oh,  such  is  life. 

A  glimpse  of  heaven  in  rock  and  wood, 
In  rivulet  and  torrent  flood, 
In  temple,  tomb,  and  solitude — 
Oh,  such  is  life. 

From  God  we  came,  to  Him  we  go, 
Our  battlefield  the  world  below, 
Our  triumphs  sin  and  death  and  woe — 
Oh,  such  is  life. 


Rest,  Pilgrim,  now  the  day  is  past, 

Rest,  rest  in  peace  ; 
The  hill's  steep  brow  is  gained  at  last ; 
Thy  faith  is  tried,  thy  hope  is  fast : 

Rest,  rest  in  peace. 

The  sun's  first  rays  shall  smile  on  thee  ; 

Rest,  rest  in  peace. 
For  Love  and  Hope  and  Piety 
Shall  guard  thee — oh,  how  tenderly  ! 

Rest,  rest  in  peace. 

134          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

So,  when  thy  life-long  fight  is  o'er, 

Rest,  rest  in  peace  ; 
Light  bringing  from  the  eastern  shore, 
Thy  sun  shall  dawn,  to  set  no  more : 

Rest,  rest  in  peace. 

The  night  is  dark.     No  light 

Within  the  veil  appeareth. 
Vain  shadows  cheat  the  sight : 

"  Speak,  Lord  :  Thy  servant  heareth." 

Day  breaks.     Against  the  sky 
The  soft  pale  mist  upreareth 

Bright  forms  which  fade  and  die : 

"  Speak,  Lord  :  Thy  servant  heareth." 

Noon  burns.     The  weary  soul 
Nor  past,  nor  future  cheereth ; 

Toil  failed  to  win  the  whole : 

"  Speak,  Lord  :  Thy  servant  heareth." 

The  evening  closes.     Late 

Calm  comes,  no  more  he  feareth 

Who  now  can  rest  and  wait : 

"  Speak,  Lord  :  Thy  servant  heareth." 

The  following  letters  selected  from  my  father's  corre 
spondence  of  this  period  are  for  the  most  part  addressed 
to  Miss  Whittard,  but  latterly  come  the  earliest  letters 
written  by  him  to  his  Cambridge  friends  and  pupils  : — 

TRINITY  COLLEGE,  2nd  March  1848. 

You  must  not,  my  dearest  Mary,  be  alarmed  at  my  not  writ 
ing  on  a  sheet  of  letter-paper.  Necessity  they  used  to  tell  us 
was  the  parent  of  invention,  and  a  piece  of  Plato  in  our  late 

in  CAMBRIDGE:  GRADUATE  LIFE        135 

examination  said  that  she  was  the  mother  of  fate — but  why 
give  the  noble  lady's  pedigree  ?  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  that 
you  are  again  nearly  well.  I  cannot  form  any  idea  as  to  how 
I  did  in  the  examination.  I  have  carefully  abstained  from 
referring  to  any  of  my  papers. 

The  French  Revolution  has  been  a  great  object  of  interest. 
I  confess  to  a  strong  sympathy  with  the  republicans.  Their 
leaders  at  least  have  been  distinguished  by  great  zeal  and 
sincerity.  Lamartine,  whom  I  fancy  you  know  by  name, 
quite  wins  my  admiration.  England  seems  destined  to  be 
the  refuge  of  exiled  sovereigns.  Charles  X.  lived  at  Holyrood, 
I  think,  and  now  it  is  said  that  Louis  Philippe  (if  he  be  still 
alive,  which  seems  doubtful)  will  reside  at  Claremont.  France 
will,  I  trust,  prosper.  The  ex -king  has  not  a  particle  of 
sympathy  from  me,  for  he  was  a  Bourbon  at  heart,  and 
Bourbons  are  by  nature  tyrants.  When  we  think  of  all  the 
misfortunes  of  France,  at  times  the  thought  will  occur  whether 
her  national  irreligion  has  brought  all  her  evils  upon  her; 
but  she  never  seemed  likely  to  be  so  prosperous  as  at  present, 
if  at  least  the  working  people  can  be  reduced  to  order  readily. 
But  I  am  afraid  you  will  grow  tired  of  this.  You  do,  Marie, 
magnify  my  labours  when  you  give  me  six  pupils  a  day.  I 
have  only  five,  and  they  will  come  at  alternate  hours — at 
present  I  only  have  them  from  time  to  time.  I  feel  sure  that 
I  shall  learn  much  from  my  pupils.  They  will  teach  me  to 
express  myself  clearly.  But  still  withal  my  thoughts  are 
wandering  homewards,  and  I  shall  soon  quite  realise  the  time 
when  in  the  evening  we  shall  read  Pascal  together.  I  have 
made  such  good  rules  as  to  what  we  shall  do.  I  have  lately 
read  again  Schiller's  William  Tell,  and  I  was  extremely  pleased 
with  it.  I  think  you  know  it.  I  intend  to  read  the 
Piccolomini  and  Wallenstein  soon.  At  present  I  have  not  an 
Ollendorff,  but  when  you  set  me  an  example  I  will  follow  it. 
I  am  rather  afraid  that  my  chapters  are  not  quite  exact ;  they 
are  Luke  xix.,  Phil.  iv.  to-day. 

I  never  read  any  of  Fox's  book.  Of  old  I  believe  it  was 
chained  with  the  Bible  to  the  reading  desks  in  churches,  and 
is  at  least  a  very  earnest  and  "  stirring "  book.  It  may  be 
well  to  read  accounts  of  persecutions,  for  at  the  present  time 
we  deem  it  impossible.  And  now  it  is  nearly  Chapel  time ; 

136          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

and  so,  my  dearest   Mary,   farewell.     May  God    bless    you. 
— Ever  believe  me,  your  most  affectionate 


TRINITY  COLLEGE,  i%th  May  1848. 

My  dearest  Mary — I  was  quite  surprised,  and  yet  very 
much  pleased,  to  receive  a  note  from  you  dated  again  from 
Bristol,  for  from  your  last  I  quite  imagined  that  you  would 
be  unable  to  return  home  for  several  days.  My  remarks 
about  the  mosses  must  consequently  have  been  quite  unin 
telligible,  and  my  picture,  on  which  I  prided  myself,  useless. 
However,  we  shall  resume  our  investigations  soon,  I  trust. 
If  I  come  to  Bristol  I  will  certainly  carry  off  my  father's 
microscope.  When  I  am  rich  (and  how  soon  that  will  be !) 
I  intend  to  get  one.  There  are,  I  believe,  several  brasses 
in  St.  Mary's,  Redcliffe,  and  certainly  it  will  be  worth  while 
to  be  prepared  for  many  others.  The  rubbings  taken  on 
black  paper  look  very  much  better,  I  think,  than  the  others. 
But  now,  Marie,  I  must  advert  to  another  part  of  your 
note,  and  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  your  feeling  poorly 
at  present  makes  you  dwell  more  on  such  a  subject.  I 
mean,  when  you  say  that  you  feel  lonely,  nay,  worse  than 
lonely,  at  church.  I  know  how  difficult  it  is  to  fully  appreciate 
the  duties  of  a  parish  minister,  and  you  can  scarcely  think 
how  many  thousands  there  are  who  need  his  visits  more  than 
even  you  would — much  more  than  you  would  as  far  as  he  can 
see  you — I  mean,  to  form  a  judgment;  and  in  endeavouring  to 
place  myself  in  such  a  case,  I  fear  (nay,  Marie,  I  believe)  that 
I  should  do  as  Mr.  Clifford  does.  But  then  as  it  now  is  I 
know  more  than  he  knows,  and  so  should  not  do  so.  I 
think  you  will  acknowledge  the  justice  of  my  excuse.  If 
you  could  read  the  statements  which  I  have  lately  read  in 
evidence  given  five  years  back  to  Government  commissioners 
of  the  frightful  grievance  of  men  and  children  who  knew  of 
no  God,  no  Saviour,  no  Bible,  even  by  name,  in  the  heart  of 
our  splendid  cities,  you  would,  I  am  sure,  admit  it.  Bad  as  I 
had  esteemed  the  state  of  our  poor  to  be,  yet  it  is  worse 
almost  than  imagination  would  have  pictured  it.  But  to 


leave  such  a  painful  topic.  I  hope  we  have  not  yet  forgotten 
that  beautiful  chapter  in  the  Rectory  of  Valehead,  when  the 
old  officer  relates  the  source  of  his  consolation  when  indeed 
an  "outcast"  in  the  midst  of  the  idolatries  of  India.  Is 
there  no  force  in  that  sublime  doctrine  which  we  continually 
profess?  No  "communion  of  saints"?  Do  you  "remem 
ber  "  ?  Do  not  think  that  I  deny  the  difficulties  and  trials 
of  your  position.  I  merely  point  out  to  you  the  means  of 
overcoming  them.  I  am  but  too  conscious  myself  of  the 
overpowering  loneliness  which  seems  then  chiefly  to  weigh 
one  down  when  amid  a  crowd  you  only  seem  to  have  no 
interest  in  their  affections,  and  no  part  in  their  business — 
when  all  seem  active  and  devoted,  and  you  dare  not  move, 
or  tremble  at  each  step.  Yet  more  or  less  this  always  must 
be  so.  I  never  can  sympathise  with  the  careless  frivolity 
which  seems  too  often  to  conceal  any  want  of  pufpose,  or 
substitute  mere  connexion  in  the  pursuit  of  amusement  for 
union  in  action.  Happy  must  we  be  if  we  can  find  here  and 
there  gleams  of  encouragement  and  hope — if  the  "  shadows  of 
our  crosses"  fall  from  time  to  time  on  clear  and  pleasant 
paths,  on  fair  and  fragrant  flowers.  Isolation  may  give  the 
firmness  which  we  need,  solitariness  may  encourage  thought- 
fulness,  than  which  no  treasure  is  more  precious.  Is  it  not 
so,  my  dearest  Mary?  Do  you  not  sometimes  feel  it  so? 
Farewell  to  this  subject.  I  am  very  glad  you  mentioned  it ; 
and  if  you  have  any  fault  to  find,  or  observe  any  deficiency 
in  my  answer,  do  mention  it. 

To  return  to  our  mosses  again.  If  you  find  any  in  fruit 
I  would  get  specimens,  and  enclose  me  some  if  you  can. 
You  remember  the  other  promise  ?  I  shall  be  ready  to  begin 
directly,  not  having  opened  OllendorfT  since  I  returned. 
Ever,  my  dearest  Mary,  "  remember." — Your  most  affectionate 


BEDDGELERT,  zothjuly  1848. 

Till  your  note  came,  my  dearest  Mary,  I  had  no  notion 
that  the  week  was  so  far  spent.  Time  really  seems  to  flow 
faster  than  the  mountain  stream  in  front  of  our  cottage,  which 

138          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

the  late  rains  have  swollen  into  the  dignity  of  a  torrent.  You 
can  scarcely  imagine  what  an  entire  change  is  produced  in 
the  scenery  by  a  day's  rain.  Every  mountain-side  is  streaked 
by  a  little  streamlet  which  is  almost  lost  in  spray  as  it  dashes 
from  rock  to  rock,  and  the  great  channel  in  the  pass  is  quite 
filled  with  a  boiling,  roaring  flood — add  all  the  participles 
from  that  quaint  address  of  Southey's  to  the  cataract  at 
Lodore — and  the  highest  rocks  seem  invested  with  a  new 
magnificence  by  the  misty  clouds  of  rain  which  sweep  round 
their  summits :  everything  is  greater  and  wilder.  There  is 
no  clearly  defined  horizon.  The  last  hill  is  partially  enwrapped 
in  clouds,  and  you  feel  there  is  much  behind  ;  while  in  a  clear 
view  all  is  at  once  before  you,  and  the  imagination  has  no 
room  for  its  exercise.  Such  were  my  impressions  when  I 
walked  down  to  Pont  Aberglaslyn  in  pouring  rain  yesterday 
to  admire  the  scenery ;  and  as  I  purchased  my  pleasure  by  a 
thorough  drenching,  you  may  believe  me  that  I  am  no  fictitious 

At  present  my  mosses  have  received  no  important  additions 
— -not  above  eight  or  ten ;  but  I  find  my  time  is  very  limited 
as  I  have  six  pupils  and  numerous  other  engagements.  What 
will  you  say,  Mary,  to  my  refusal  to  be  an  editor  already  ?  I 
had  an  offer  from  Macmillan  yesterday  to  edit  a  Greek  play 
for  twenty-nine  guineas,  but  of  course  as  I  am  at  present  situated 
I  declined  it,  hinting  that  I  might  at  some  time  be  induced  to 
publish  something  of  Aristotle's,  but  not  yet.  .  .  .  You  must 
tell  me  what  you  are  reading.  I  should  think  you  might  get 
through  much.  Whenever  you  send  an  exercise  I  will  begin 
German  again.  If  you  could  get  a  dictionary,  it  would,  I  fancy, 
add  vastly  to  your  pleasure.  .  .  .  Only  may  we  do  as  much 
as  our  numberless  blessings  claim  from  us  !  We  will  treat 
of  soul  and  spirit  next  time.  Ever,  my  dearest  Mary, 
"  remember." — Your  most  affectionate 


BEDDGELERT,  2.7  th  August  1848. 

In  reference  to  your  last  note,  my  dearest   Mary,  it  has 
occurred  to  me  that  we  might  find  it  mutually  very  useful  and 

in          CAMBRIDGE:  GRADUATE  LIFE       139 

pleasant  to  discuss  a  few  points  connected  with  our  Church. 
It  is  never  possible  to  be  too  secure  or  too  clear  in  our  views. 
There  is  a  far  closer  connexion  between  reason  and  faith 
than  most  persons  are  ready  to  acknowledge.  To  believe 
firmly  we  must  know  distinctly  ;  many  of  the  objects  of  our 
faith  may  be  mysteries,  but  we  must  at  least  know  they  are 
such,  and  we  must  feel  their  immensity.  This  disconnexion 
of  knowledge  and  faith,  so  common  in  our  age,  is  to  be 
paralleled  by  the  common  excuse  given  for  different  men, 
"  that  they  act  according  to  their  conscience,"  as  if  conscience 
were  as  definite  a  power  as  one  ot  our  senses,  and  not  to  be 
trained  and  enlightened  according  to  the  means  vouchsafed 
to  us  ;  as  if  a  man  were  not  as  much  answerable  for  his  con 
science  as  for  his  actions.  This  is  an  important  distinction, 
and  particularly  to  be  borne  in  mind  in  religious  controversy, 
where  conscience  seems  to  be  the  final  judge  appealed  to. 
But  to  return  from  this  long  digression  —  I  think  our  investi 
gations  may  be  well  divided  into  three  great  divisions  (every 
thing,  you  know,  naturally  becomes  threefold)  :  — 


(1)  The     Constitution     of     the     (  a.   Episcopacy. 

Church  (  /3.  State  connexion. 

(  a.   Infant  Baptism. 

(2)  The  mes  and  services  of  the       ^  Confirmation. 

(  y.  Excommunication,  etc. 
j  Developed    in    the     several 

(3)  The  doctrines  of  the  Church    -        Articles  —  particularly    i., 

(       vi.,  ix.-xviii.,  xxv.-xxxi. 

I  will  mention  any  objections  I  may  chance  to  have  heard  ; 
and  I  shall  be  obliged  if  you  can  add  any  new  ones.  .  .  . 

I  may  remark,  in  concluding  this  topic,  that  in  one  thing 
we  have  changed  from  the  primitive  custom.  With  us, 
Deacons  are  only  imperfect  Priests,  so  to  speak  —  the  Diacon- 
ate  is  only  a  step  to  the  Priesthood  ;  with  the  early  Church  it 
was  otherwise,  and  soon,  I  trust,  it  will  be  so  with  us.  Before 
long,  I  hope  to  see  an  order  of  men  —  in  some  degree  like  the 
"local  preachers"  —  who,  while  recognised  religious  "helps," 
may  yet  follow  their  several  callings,  and  be  an  integral  portion 
of  the  people.  Such  an  agency  gives  greater  unity  to  a 

1 40          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

church,  and  removes  the  great  barrier  between  clergy  and 
laity.  It  is,  I  believe,  to  that  that  the  Wesleyan  body  owes 
its  widespread  influence.  Moreover,  peculiarly  religious 
duties  become  then  connected  with  business,  and  those  not 
personal  only  but  social,  and  so  one  great  step  is  taken  in  the 
great  lesson  that  we  are  all  "  a  holy  priesthood."  Thus  much, 
then,  my  dearest  Mary,  have  I  to  say  on  the  first  division  of 
our  subject.  Tell  me  your  opinion,  and  then  we  will  go  on  to 
the  next.  But  ever  let  us  so  seek  that  all  may  be  for  God's 
glory.  And  now  a  Dieu.  Ever  "  remember." — Your  most 
affectionate  BROOKE  F.  WESTCOTT. 

BIRMINGHAM,  i6t/i  Sunday  after  Trinity. 

If  I  do  not  write  a  long  note  this  evening,  my  dearest  Mary, 
the  fault  will  not  be  owing  to  company.  I  am  now  left  alone 
with  Lizzie.  My  father  and  mother  are  both  gone  to  my 
aunt's,  who  is  much  worse — indeed,  it  is  a  marvel  to  every  one 
how  she  has  held  out  so  long.  I  was  with  her  this  afternoon, 
and  she  was  more  calm  and  happy  than  usual.  I  do  not 
think  I  have  heard  one  complaint  from  her,  though  her  suffer 
ings  are  without  cessation  ;  on  the  contrary,  she  only  expresses 
deep  thankfulness  for  every  slight  relief.  It  is  impossible 
not  to  regard  her  long-continued  illness  as  a  great  mercy,  for 
now  she  is  entirely  weaned  from  everything.  She  can  see 
her  children  without  any  strong  emotion,  and  talk  of  leaving 
them  with  composure.  I  am  extremely  glad  that  I  did  not 
go  directly  to  Cambridge,  for,  as  I  have  known  her  so  long,  it 
has  been  a  great  pleasure  to  have  been  of  the  slightest  use  at 
such  a  time,  and  for  my  own  part  I  have  learned  much  from 

I  have  often  wished  that  you  could  have  been  here  for  an 
hour  or  so ;  for,  though  I  admit  such  scenes  are  melancholy, 
yet,  Mary,  you  or  I  should  not  shrink  from  them,  nor  do  I 
think  you  would.  I  intensely  dislike  mere  morbid  sentiment, 
but  illness  and  suffering,  even  in  others,  are  powerful  teachers. 
Do  not  suppose  that  I  would  wish  to  communicate  to  our 
whole  life  the  atmosphere  of  a  sick-room,  or  abjure  all  the 

in          CAMBRIDGE:  GRADUATE  LIFE       141 

relaxations  of  society  or  the  pleasures  of  nature  ;  yet  I  would 
not  forget  the  graver  side  of  life.  I  would  not  wish  to  be 
unable  to  minister  comfort  when  comfort  is  most  needed,  I 
would  not  forget  that  we  are  "  men  "  with  exquisite  means  of 
pleasure,  but  I  would  still  remember  that  we  are  "  mortals  "  in 
probation  for  another  existence.  I  am  continually  misunder 
stood  when  I  speak  on  these  subjects,  but  I  hope  you  don't 
mistake  me.  I  am  supposed  to  be  gloomy  and  adverse  to 
society,  whereas  quite  the  reverse  is  the  case.  I  am  very 
fond  of  society,  but  I  trust  I  do  hate  the  frivolities  of  society. 
I  cannot  think  that  they  are  needed  for  relaxation,  and 
I  am  sure  they  are  useless  for  pleasure.  All  that  is  health 
ful  and  vigorous,  all  that  adds  to  our  energy  and  awakens 
our  sympathies,  or  diverts  the  mind  as  a  means  to  new 
endeavours,  most  heartily  I  would  love.  Never  would  I  blame 
anything  that  a  person  pursues  as  conducive  to  these  ends. 
I  might  differ  in  opinion,  but  I  would  not  condemn.  This 
always  reminds  me  of  the  great  fault  of  our  Church — its 
unsociability.  We  are  all  unconnected — very  disconnected — 
there  is  no  unity  among  the  parts  in  themselves,  no  concord 
in  their  action  on  others.  But  why  should  this  be  so  ?  Why 
should  "  pews  "  and  cushions  for  ever  separate  our  rich  and 
poor  ?  or  Sunday  be  the  only  assembling  day  of  the  congrega 
tion  ?  Why  are  our  communicants  unnoticed  and  unregistered  ? 
You  will  easily  suggest  ten  thousand  queries,  and  who  shall 
answer  them  ?  Does  not  the  chief  cause  lie  in  the  forgetful- 
ness  of  the  declaration  that  Christians  are  "  a  chosen  people, 
and  a  royal  priesthood,"  and  the  consequent  little  care  of 
family  services,  and  if  of  family,  much  more  of  social  services  ? 
There  is  matter  for  abundant  thought  in  this.  May  we,  my 
dearest  Mary,  much  and  often  reflect  on  it,  and  may  the  Holy 
Spirit  be  our  Teacher.  Ever  "remember." — Your  most 
affectionate  BROOKE. 

BIRMINGHAM,  2nd  October  1848. 

.  .  .  You  will  not  say  that  I  am  a  too  partial  admirer  of 
our  much -loved  Church,  but  I  never  could  hear  such  argu 
ments  as  Mr.  T.  seems  to  have  used  without  the  deepest 

142          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

disgust.  As  if  the  State  gave  the  Church  anything  but  losses  ! 
As  if  she  derived  any  superior  power  from  her  connexion 
with  it,  and  was  not  rather  hampered  and  shackled  by  number 
less  encumbrances  !  No  fallacy,  no  falsehood  rather,  can  be 
more  shamefaced  than  the  assertion  that  the  revenues  of  the 
Church  are  derived  from  the  State.  They  are  entirely  (with 
the  exception  of  tithes,  and  these  we  may  consider  at  some 
other  time,  and  church  rates,  which  are  only  exacted  by  the 
authority  of  a  majority  of  the  parish)  derived  from  property 
left  specially  to  the  Church,  over  which  the  State  has  usurped 
a  power,  salutary  perhaps,  but  yet  usurped,  of  control  and 
direction.  The  real  state  of  the  case  is  this  with  regard  to 
Church  property.  The  State  controls  ours  in  virtue  of  its  con 
nexion  with  us,  and  dissenting  bodies  control  their  own.  So 
much  for  our  advantages.  The  whole  question  as  to  Church 
and  State  we  will  return  to  again.  My  own  opinions  on  that 
topic  are,  I  think,  likely  to  be  modified.  You  will  remember 
that  at  one  time  I  used  to  dislike  the  idea  of  such  a  connexion, 
but  now  the  observance  of  the  wretched  spirit  of  its  opposers, 
and  of  the  melancholy  character  of  a  negative  constitution, 
seems  to  overpower  all  theoretical  objections.  My  democratic 
notions  have  long  since  vanished  into  thin  air,  and  my  volun 
tary  principle,  I  think,  will  follow  next.  "  They  don't  work 
well,"  as  Sam  Slick  said  very  sensibly.  So  much  I  must  say 
on  controversial  matters.  If  I  had  been  speaking,  I  am  sure 
you  would  have  seen  my  colour  rise,  and  I  wish  you  could 
have  done  so. 

TRINITY  COLLEGE,  2nd  November  1848. 

Is  it  not  sufficient  trouble  to  write  notes — pardon  the  word, 
my  dearest  Mary — but  will  you  entail  on  me  the  penalty  of 
deciphering  my  own  writing  ?  .  .  .  The  death  -  scene  of 
Mirabeau  was  described  by  the  last  "  Carlylean  "  biographer  as 
"the  sublime  of  deistic  belief."  You  will  judge  of  the  appli 
cability  of  the  remark  when  you  have  read  the  description.  I 
am  far  from  being  a  believer  in  the  ability  of  popular  lectures. 
Of  course,  if  young  ladies  are  led  to  believe  that  the  world 
only  turns  round  in  theory — like  Franklin's  niece,  was  it  not  ? 
— an  orrery  is  useful  enough  ;  but  I  cannot  help  thinking  that 

in  CAMBRIDGE:  GRADUATE  LIFE        143 

knowledge  soonest  acquired  is  least  treasured  up  and  remem 
bered.  I  am  half  inclined  to  become  entirely  dissipated,  and 
spend  all  my  spare  time  in  novel-reading.  I  am  too  tired  to 
do  anything  in  the  evenings.  How  I  wish  I  had  a  piano, — I 
MUST  get  one.  All  the  "graces"  which  I  mentioned  in  my 
last  note  have  passed,  and  the  scene  in  the  Senate  House 
was  very  interesting.  There  were  present  Guizot  and  his 
family — two  daughters  and  a  son:  the  former  well-dressed, 
intelligent,  vicacious,  and  French ;  the  latter  dirty,  uninterest 
ing,  and  vacant.  Guizot  himself  is  a  very  little  man — perhaps 
five  feet  four.  He  has  a  fine  brow,  generally  well  developed,  short 
iron-grey  hair,  and  quick  piercing  eyes,  which  in  conversation 
are,  I  believe,  singularly  bright.  He  wore  an  old  long  great 
coat  ;  and  I  can  scarcely  imagine  any  more  ludicrous  contrast 
than  that  presented  by  his  conducting  Mrs.  Whewell,  who  is 
a  tall,  stately,  and  well-dressed  lady,  home.  He  was  well 
received  by  the  undergraduates,  who,  if  not  the  most  influential, 
are  the  most  noisy  members  of  the  house  on  such  occasions — 
and  I  might  perhaps  have  been  carried  away  myself  but  for  a 
resolute  determination.  .  .  .  Mr.  Lee  (between  ourselves)  is 
hung  up  in  my  rooms  under  the  false  signature  of  J.  P. 
Manchester,  and  he  proves  a  considerable  ornament.  Is  not 
my  note  clean,  neat,  and  legible  ?  I  made  a  new  pen  on 
purpose,  and  I  have  not  indulged  in  sentiment ;  but  if  need 
be,  let  me  give  you  advice  not  to  be  disheartened.  The 
wider  the  field,  the  more  our  usefulness.  If  I  could  define 
life,  it  would  probably  be  "  time  usefully  spent."  Let  us  "  live," 
my  dearest  Mary. — Ever  believe  me,  your  most  affectionate 


TRINITY  COLLEGE,  i6th  November  1848. 

If  I  begin,  my  dearest  Mary,  to  think  of  all  I  have  to  do 
this  evening,  farewell  to  my  note.  I  have  already  written  two 
home,  for  to-morrow  is  my  mother's  birthday,  and  I  have  sent 
her  my  medal  in  remembrance  of  it — rather  an  apt  present,  I 
think.  Think  you  not  so  ?  .  .  .  Is  it  not  cruel  that  Dr.  Owen 
should  reduce  the  great  sea  serpent,  which  has  fed  us  with 
wonder  so  long,  to  an  ugly  seal  ?  However,  he  said  in  a  long 


144          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

letter  to  the  Times  the  other  day  that  the  description  and 
picture  answered  to  the  characteristics  of  a  very  large  seal, — 
certainly,  he  said,  it  could  not  be  a  serpent.  For  my  own  part, 
I  was  beginning  to  believe  in  the  Kraken.  When  I  first 
amused  myself  with  reading,  a  terrible  picture  of  a  sea-serpent 
devouring  a  ship's  crew  made  a  great  impression  on  me,  and 
so  my  prejudices  are  all  in  favour  of  the  monster's  existence. 
Your  selection  of  books,  Marie,  is  far  more  extensive  than 
mine.  Alison  might  suggest  thoughts,  and  my  only  hope  is 
to  find  them  ready-made.  Let  us  really  adhere  to  our  plan. 
My  diary  has  of  late  been  sadly  neglected,  and  so  has  every 
thing  but  my  pupils.  The  term  seems  very  short,  or  rather 
very  speedily  drawing  to  a  close.  How  soon  we  shall,  I  trust, 
once  more  spend  a  New  Year's  day  together,  if  all  be  well. 
Very  much  has  happened  since  the  last. 

EDGBASTON,  2Qth  December  [1848]. 

I  ought,  my  dearest  Mary,  to  make  you  a  good  return  for 
your  very  long  note — with  interest,  too,  if  I  was  acquainted 
with  all  the  mysteries  of  "  per-cent,"  but  I  am  going  out  this 
evening  (to  Mr.  Wickenden's)  and  Sybil  prevented  my 
good  intentions  of  writing  yesterday  becoming  a  fait  accompli. 
Is  not  my  French  improved  by  novel -reading?  A  day  or 
two  ago  I  might  have  expressed  myself  in  plain  English. 
Sybil,  a  kind  of  supplement  to  Coningsby^  by  Disraeli,  is  a 
very  remarkable  book ;  quite  a  contrast  to  Jane  JEyre,  my 
other  novel ;  deriving  all  its  interest  not  from  the  delineation 
of  individual  character,  but  from  the  great  subject  matter, 
"the  two  nations" — the  rich  and  the  poor.  The  date 
extends  from  '3 1  to  '40,  including  the  Chartist  outbreak  and 
strikes.  The  plot  is  marvellous  to  impossibility,  but  on  the 
whole  I  am  very  glad  I  read  it,  and  very  sorry  I  cannot  im 
part  my  pleasure  to  you. 

As  for  Jenny  Lind  I  would  not  give  sixpence  to  hear  her 
alone.  What  possible  pleasure  could  there  be  in  such  selfish 
ness  ?  I  am  sure,  my  dearest  Mary,  you  don't  think  I  would 
go  by  myself.  I  hope  we  may  hear  the  Elijah  again  together. 

in  CAMBRIDGE:   GRADUATE  LIFE        145 

Your  school  agitation  immensely  amuses  me.  It  is  so  delight 
ful  to  contemplate  you  as  the  leader  of  a  faction,  or  of  an 
opposition — may  I  say  a  constitutional  party  ? 

It  is  too  early,  I  suppose,  to  wish  you  a  very  happy  Christ 
mas,  for  indeed  I  can  scarcely  realise  the  presence  of  the 
holly-crowned,  frost-gemmed  king ;  but  I  suppose  now  he  will 
soon  make  us  adopt  his  livery,  as  he  forced  me  to  get  a  scarf 

EDGBASTON,  ityh  January  1849. 

.  .  .  You  have  often  heard  my  views  of  life,  yet  hear  them 
once  again ;  for  I  should  never  forgive  myself  if  I  were  to 
mar  your  happiness  by  representing  my  opinions  falsely.     To 
live  is  not  to  be  gay  or  idle  or  restless.     Frivolity,  inactivity, 
and  aimlessness  seem  equally  remote  from  the  true  idea  of 
living.     I  should  say  that  we  live  only  so  far  as  we  cultivate 
all  our  faculties,  and  improve  all  our  advantages  for  God's 
glory.     The  means  of  living  then  will  be  our  own  endow 
ments,  whether  of  talent  or  influence ;  the  aim  of  living,  the 
good  of  men ;  the  motive  of  living,  the  love  of  God.     I  do 
not  say  that  these  ideas  are  to  enter  prominently  into  every 
detail  of  life,  any  more  than  that  in  every  movement  we  must 
be  distinctly  conscious  of  the  vital  principle  physically ;  but 
just  as  this  must  necessarily  exist  before  we  can  take  one  step, 
so  the  whole  groundwork  of  our  inner  life  must  be  these 
feelings  to  which  I  have  alluded.     Every  pleasure  that  rests 
on  any  other  basis  must  be  unsatisfactory ;  every  pain  that  is 
supported  by  any  other  prop,  overwhelming.     We  must  then 
look  forward.    We  must  value  our  earthly  blessings  as  pilgrims 
would  a  fair  scene :  we  must  take  comfort  and  refreshment 
from  them,  and  then  press  more  vigorously  onwards.     But 
still   more,    my  dearest  Mary,   "  no   man  liveth  to  himself." 
We   should  remember  the  incalculable  effects  of  the  most 
trifling  actions.     The  fate  of  thousands  will  depend  on  you 
and  me — the  fate  of  thousands  to  all  eternity !     Life  is  in 
deed  "  real,"  indeed  "earnest,"  if  viewed  in  this  aspect ;  and 
can  we  refuse  to  regard  it  thus  ?     I  cannot.     You  cannot,  I 
am   sure.     We   must  then   remember  that   we  are   beacons 
"  set  on  an  hill,"  which,  if  they  give  an  uncertain  light,  will 

VOL.  I  L 


146          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

bring  ruin  on  countless  multitudes  of  harbourless  mariners. 
I  know  that  it  is  not  customary  to  see  things  in  so  solemn  a 
light ;  yet  I  wish  I  could  draw  a  still  more  impressive  picture, 
for  I  continually  forget  these  features  of  humanity.  .  .  .  Do 
not  be  led  away  by  any  enthusiasm  I  may  ever  have  exhibited 
on  these  subjects — oh,  how  incommensurate  with  what  I 
have  done !  .  .  .  Let  us  press  forward  towards  that  prize 
which  even  the  holy  Paul  did  not  count  himself  to  have 
attained ;  which  the  infant  Cyril  rejoiced  in ;  which  the  aged 
Polycarp  found  in  his  funeral  pyre.  How  different  their 
circumstances  !  yet  their  hope  was  one  ;  and  may  not  we  have 
it  ?  Where  can  we  find  a  rival  motive  ?  Oh  that  we  could 
now  know  as  we  are  known  ;  that  we  could  see  things  as 
they  really  are ;  that  we  could  trace  the  dark  lineaments  of 
sin,  and  the  fair  beauties  of  holiness  !  Is  not  the  very  mean 
ing  of  the  words  I  have  quoted,  that  in  heaven  we  shall  have 
no  temptation  from  the  vain  shadows  which  here  beset  us  ? 
Let  us  remember  that  we  do  not  injure  ourselves  alone  by 
neglecting  a  duty,  but  many  a  being  who,  but  for  our  care 
lessness,  might  have  shared  in  endless  happiness;  that  by 
our  zeal  we  awaken  others  from  their  indifference,  and  are 
allowed  to  minister  to  the  good  of  thousands  whom  we  may 
rejoice  to  meet  (how  earnestly  I  pray  these  may  be  no  idle 
words  !)  in  heavenly  places.  Think,  my  dearest  Mary — think 
most  earnestly  on  these  things.  Do  not  regard  my  deficiencies  ; 
do  not  measure  my  maxims  by  my  deeds ;  pray  rather  that 
these  latter  may  be  made  conformable  to  what  I  feel  is  right. 
.  .  .  How  desperate  would  our  case  be  if  we  could  not  pray 
for  one  another.  This  is  one  of  the  glorious  characteristics 
of  our  holy  religion.  "Remember,"  my  own  dear  Mary. 
May  we  take  Romans  xii.  as  our  guide,  and  may  we  be  en 
abled  by  God's  Spirit  in  some  measure  to  keep  its  precepts. 
My  time  is  now  exhausted,  yet  I  could  write  volumes ;  but 
that  word  "  remember "  would  contain  their  sum.  May 
God  bless  you  ! — Ever  your  most  affectionate 


in  CAMBRIDGE:  GRADUATE  LIFE        147 

Saturday  Evening,  24/6  Febrtiarv  1849. 

My  dearest  Mary — I  feel  inclined  to  write  a  line  this 
evening,  and  will  not  you  say  that  it  is  a  strange  feeling  to 
have  after  n  o'clock?  But  I  will  tell  you  how  it  is.  At 
8  o'clock  my  last  pupil  left  me,  and  even  ordinarily  one  is 
not  inclined  to  work  much  on  Saturday  evening,  but  to-night 
a  friend,  who  has  taught  me  more  than  any'  one  else,  called 
for  me  to  tea,  and  I  have  only  just  left  his  rooms.  We  have 
been  talking  on  many  great  things — I  was  going  to  say  all 
great  things — and  when  one's  mind  gets  thus  excited,  what  is 
more  natural  than  to  try  to  give  vent  to  its  feeling  where  it 
will  meet  with  sympathy  ?  And  so  sympathy  on  the  greatest 
topics  was  one  subject  we  have  been  discussing.  We  were 
talking  of  a  clergyman's  home,  and  how  hopeless  it  would 
be  without  there  was  throughout  it  a  full  and  deep  unity 
of  purpose  and  interest.  Of  the  two  great  aspects  of  life, 
both  dangerous  in  themselves,  yet  glorious  when  united. 
I  mean  life  as  a  work  "real  and  earnest,"  and  life  as  a 
mere  contemplation  of  what  God  has  done  for  us.  Of  the 
dangers  of  the  present  day  from  the  growth  of  an  ill- 
disciplined  spirit  of  independence  in  thought  and  action.  Of 
the  scheme  we  had  proposed  for  our  little  work.  Of  music,  of 
poetry,  of  Cambridge,  of  active  duties,  of  things  present  and 
future.  And  is  it  not,  then,  my  dearest  Mary,  necessary  for 
me  to  write  at  least  one  line  to  tell  you  what  I  have  talked 
of  and  thought  on,  for  this  is  an  enjoyment  I  have  rarely 
had  this  term  ?  Must  not  you  have  been  largely  interested 
in  all  my  views  ?  And  particularly  when  we  were  talking  of 
our  first  texts,  and  I  referred  to  i  John  ii.  1 7  (which  I  shall 
always  remember  in  connexion  with  the  Battie  Scholarship), 
and  my  friend  suggested  that  he  was  afraid  my  sermons 
would  be  too  gloomy,  and  if  my  sermons,  then  much  more 
my  conversation  ;  and  I  sometimes  think  you  may  fancy  so ; 
and  yet  often  you  tell  me  that  you  don't.  You  ought,  Marie, 
to  tell  me  what  you  think.  I  have  often  told  you  my  views 
of  life.  You  should  give  me  yours.  All  our  thoughts  and 
wishes  and  plans  must  be  in  sympathy.  Let  us  earnestly  pray 

148          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

that  they  may  be  such  as  to  be  completed  in  heaven ;  that 
we  may  be  journeying  on  only  to  our  abiding  city ;  that  all 
things  here  may  be  only  dear  to  us  as  we  see  God  in  them, 
for  I  don't  think  we  can  love  men  less  for  loving  God  more. 

TRINITY  COLLEGE,  gth  March  1849. 

To  H.  R.  A., 

who  complained  of  the  student's  life  at  Cambridge. 

Tell  me  not,  though  faint  and  weary, 

That  the  student's  lot  is  pain  ; 
That  his  life  is  dark  and  dreary, 

Toilsome,  perilous,  and  vain. 

Dark  ! — a  thousand  sights  of  glory 

Beam  before  his  raptured  eyes, 
Words  and  deeds  still  bright  in  story 

Shine  along  each  path  he  tries. 

Dark  ! — before  him  ever  burning 

You  may  see  the  lamp  of  life, 
See  him  ever  God-ward  turning 

Prayerful  eyes  amid  the  strife. 

Dreary  ! — with  good  angels  near  him 

To  inspire  fresh  deeds  of  love  ; 
With  the  voice  of  God  to  cheer  him, 

Nobler  works  of  faith  to  prove. 

Toilsome  ! — who  would  count  the  labour  ? 

Perilous  ! — who  would  fear  the  end, 
If  he  truly  love  his  neighbour, 

If  he  feel  his  God  his  friend  ? 

Vain  ! — the  student's  earnest  pages 

Kindle  never-dying  fires. 
And  his  spirit  lives  for  ages 

In  the  deeds  his  word  inspires. 

in          CAMBRIDGE:  GRADUATE  LIFE        149 

Like  some  old  Cathedral  gleaming 

In  a  flood  of  golden  light, 
Chequered  o'er  with  colours  streaming 

From  the  windows  richly  dight, 

So  the  student's  life.     Fresh  beauty 
Flows  from  every  source  of  truth, 

And  he  feels  his  solemn  duty 
Suits  the  joyous  time  of  youth. 

Let  us  then,  on  God  relying, 

Speed  on  our  appointed  way, 
Ever  hoping,  ever  vying 

More  to  labour  and  to  pray. 

TRINITY  COLLEGE,  i  ith  March  1849. 

My  dear  Alder — May  I  ask  you  to  keep  these  lines  as  a 
memorial  of  one  of  the  pleasantest  days  I  ever  spent  ? l  And 
may  I  not  also  hope  that  you  will  now  not  only  recognise  but 
participate  in  the  feeling  which  gave  rise  to  them  ? — Yours 
very  affectionately,  BROOKE  F.  WESTCOTT. 

Oh,  tell  me  not  their  faith  is  vain,  who  dream 

Of  holy  sympathies,  and  mystic  bonds 

Of  love  and  worship  in  all  living  things, 

And  things  that  live  not  !     While  the  white-robed  choir 

Poured  forth  their  hymns  of  glory,  I  believe 

The  birds,  who  make  God's  temple  their  abode, 

Thrilled  by  the  sacred  harmony,  rejoiced 

In  concert  with  our  joy.     Oh,  I  believe 

The  very  sunshine  gleamed  with  brighter  glow 

At  words  of  love  and  mercy,  peace  and  praise  ! 

Their  hearts  are  cold,  their  love,  their  sympathy 

Lifeless  and  dull,  who  think  that  man's  the  world  : 

That  there  are  not  below,  around,  above, 

Ten  thousand  unintelligible  sounds 

Of  gratitude  and  praise  :  ten  thousand  mute, 

But  holy  worshippers,  in  rocks  and  stones, 

1  A  visit  to  Ely  Cathedral. 


150         LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

Sunshine  and  stars,  temples  and  monuments. 
I  love  not  man  the  less,  but  God  the  more, 
Because  I  feel  this  love  in  all  around, 
And  see  in  all  living  and  endless  praise. 
And  oh  shall  I  be  silent  ?     Praise  and  prayer, 
The  bright  reflections  of  the  joys  of  heaven, 
Like  the  fair  colours  on  yon  ruined  wall, 
Which  speak  of  glories  that  we  cannot  see, 
Nor  even  dream  of,  till  the  sun  reveals 
The  image  of  their  beauty.      I  believe, 
And  joy  in  thus  believing,  each  fair  shaft, 
Each  sculptured  capital,  and  quaint  carved  boss, 
The  fretted  vault,  and  long,  plain-timbered  roof, 
Each  bears  its  part  in  worship ;  that  each  stone 
By  some  mysterious  sense  can  praise  its  God. 
And  oh  shall  I  be  silent  ?     May  I  live 
Worthy  of  what  I  feel,  worthy  of  such 
Companionship  with  nature  ;  may  I  hear 
In  every  voice  God's  praise,  in  every  sight 
Of  beauty  see  it ;  in  all  works  of  power, 
Of  might  and  majesty ;  in  trees  and  rocks, 
Mountains  and  rivulets.     Oh,  this  faith  is  true, 
This  truth  is  love,  and  love's  the  life  of  heaven ! 

ELY,  2nd  Sunday  in  Lent,  1849. 

P.S. — I  would  not  alter  anything,  because  I  know  you 
won't  look  at  the  lines,  but  the  feeling.  For  this  alone  I 
give  them  you.  B.  F.  W. 

TRINITY  COLLEGE,  24^  March  1849. 

My  dear  Alder — You  have  indeed  decided  the  question  of 
priority  in  writing,  which  occasioned  so  subtle  a  discussion 
this  morning,  and  the  fault  is  certainly  my  own,  if  I  am  in 
want  of  subject  matter.  I  do  not  think  that  I  should  ever 
have  required  anything  to  remind  me  either  of  yourself  or  the 
many  happy  hours  we  have  spent  together,  but  I  shall  not 
on  that  account  less  value  your  kind  present,  because  it  will 
couple  both  more  intimately  with  that  which  so  often  formed 
the  topic  of  our  friendly  controversies.  In  years  to  come,  if 
all  be  well,  I  shall,  by  the  help  of  Coleridge,  more  vividly 

in          CAMBRIDGE:  GRADUATE  LIFE       151 

recall  our  Sunday  rambles  down  Pont  Aberglaslyn,  and  over 
the  rocks  below  the  bridge ;  and  I  think  you  will  not  smile 
at  me  for  any  romantic  fancies,  if  I  confess  that  I  find  my 
greatest  pleasures  in  such  associations. 

I  need  hardly  say  that  I  heartily  agree  with  the  whole  tenor 
of  the  passage  to  which  you  refer ;  and  I  can  recognise  the 
danger  in  which  I  frequently  stand  myself  from  the  feeling  to 
which  he  alludes ;  and  yet  I  trust  that  our  conversations  have 
not  been  without  this  fruit,  that  I  am  so  sensible  of  the  peril 
that  nothing  would  ever  induce  me  to  lead  another  along  the 
way  I  have  passed,  or  to  venture  on  it  further  myself.  But 
do  you  not  think  that  there  is  an  opposite  spirit  widely 
current  in  the  world  just  now,  which  would  exclude  God's 
Providence  from  the  operations  of  Nature,  under  the  Epicurean 
delusion  that  they  are  too  insignificant  to  merit  His  attention  ? 
And  as  there  is  much  truth,  I  yet  fully  believe,  in  Nature's 
teaching,  may  we  not  supply  her  deficiency  without  abandon 
ing  her  help?  May  we  not  fit  her  fair  carved  work  and 
many-coloured  pictures  into  the  solid  fabric  of  our  simple 
faith  ?  I  ask  really  in  doubt.  I  am  not  at  all  sure  that  this 
may  not  be  wisdom  falsely  so-called,  though  St.  Paul  declares 
that  God  is  not  without  witness  in  the  natural  world.  My 
only  wish  was  to  rescue,  as  far  as  we  each  may  in  our  little 
circle,  the  claims  on  human  sympathy  which  form  the  chief 
attraction  of  the  school  of  Carlyle,  from  a  necessary  con 
nexion  with  scepticism.  I  wanted  to  unite  a  vivid  pleasure  in 
Nature  with  a  faithful  worship  of  her  God.  I  was  anxious  to 
read  both  books,  as  Keble  calls  them,  and  not  indeed  to  close 
either.  I  have  sometimes  thought  that  you  incline  to  neglect 
one  as  much  as  I  am  in  danger,  though  not  inclined,  of 
neglecting  the  other ;  and  I  am  sure  that  you  would  entirely 
sympathise  with  my  pleasure  from  this  auxiliary  source,  if  you 
would  only  suffer  yourself  to  approach  it. 

You  have  been  kind  enough  to  make  yourself  the  keeper 
of  my  "  poetical "  conscience,  and  I  am  not  afraid  that  you 
will  accuse  me  of  any  unworthy  feeling  if  I  send  you  a  few 
lines  I  scribbled  the  other  day,  which  are  in  some  measure  a 
correction,  or  explanation,  of  my  former  feelings.  I  only  send 
them  because  I  could  not  now  express  my  meaning  so  well 
in  other  words,  for  I  cannot  long  retain  an  impression,  nor  yet 

152          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

recall  it.  I  wished  to  indicate  that  we  feel  as  intense  a 
pleasure  from  the  discharge  of  the  meanest  duty  to  our  fellow- 
men  as  from  the  contemplation  of  the  most  beautiful  scenes, 
or  rather  that  this  active  exercise  of  Christian  charity  is 
indeed  the  only  true  source  of  all  real  enjoyment  of  nature 
or  art.  The  lines  were  partly  written  while  walking  from  the 
Mendicity  one  starlit  night,  so  you  will  see  that  if  so  trifling  a 
'service  could  give  me  pleasure,  I  shall  not  underrate  the  dis 
charge  of  our  active  duties.  How  earnestly  I  wish  we  may 
truly  and  sincerely  discharge  them. 

I  will  not  offer  you  any  formal  thanks,  but  I  am  sure 
that  you  will  not  think  I  feel  the  less  on  this  account. — Ever 
believe  me,  my  dear  Alder,  yours  most  affectionately, 


When  our  human  heart  is  swelling 

With  a  sympathy  divine, 
When  a  still  small  voice  is  telling, 

God's  own  whisper,  "  Thou  art  Mine  "  ; 

When  we  feel  a  fresh  communion, 
Such  as  when  the  earth  began, 

Linking  in  a  holy  union 

Earth  with  heaven,  and  God  with  man  ; 

When  each  tree  and  leaf  and  flower, 
Earth's  fair  fields  and  starry  cope, 

Seem  by  some  mysterious  power 
Fraught  with  messages  of  hope, — 

Love  can  tell  the  torrents'  voices, 
And  the  whispers  of  the  breeze, 

How  each  rolling  star  rejoices 
With  celestial  harmonies. 

Deeper  echoes,  while  she  listens, 
Answer  from  her  heart's  recess, 

And  the  very  wave  that  glistens 
Seems  to  share  her  blessedness. 

in  CAMBRIDGE:  GRADUATE  LIFE        153 

And  she  knows  whene'er  the  wildest 

Storms  of  sin  and  sorrow  rise, 
That  the  darkest  clouds  shine  mildest, 

Sunlit,  in  the  western  skies. 

Calmly  then  in  peace  reposing — 

Peace  the  fruit  of  active  life, 
May  we  live,  not  idly  dozing, 

Nor  amid  ambition's  strife. 

May  we  seek  no  gaud  of  glory, 
May  we  fear  no  lip  of  scorn  ; 

Till  we  die — not  famed  in  story, 
But  from  earth  to  heaven  upborne. 


TRINITY  COLLEGE,  22nd  April  [1849]. 

.  .  .  L —  -  is  amusing ;  but  it  is  a  good  thing  that  no 
one  can  imprison  us  for  smiling.  If  he  has  roused  your 
indignation  so  far  as  to  make  you  practise  more,  I  shall 
regard  him  in  the  light  of  a  benefactor.  I  am  sure  you 
would  now  find  the  time  well  spent  in  doing  so,  for  when  once 
one  sees  the  meaning  and  feels  it,  then  it  is  that  practising 
is  really  serviceable — at  least,  I  think  so.  The  little  voluntary 
of  Mozart's  is  taken  from  his  First  Mass,  so  that  it  is  quite 
grave  enough  for  me ;  but  at  the  same  time  I  am  learning  an 
air  and  variations  !  The  latter  I  confess  is  not  so  palatable, 
but  then  it  is  livelier.  My  bed-maker  will  soon,  I  trust,  grow 
accustomed  to  my  eccentricities ;  at  present  I  can  often  see 
her  steal  a  glance  at  my  desperate  efforts  to  educe  the  tune 
from  the  notes.  .  .  .  Tell  me  when  we  shall  begin  Schiller 
again,  and  then  nothing  must  interrupt  it.  I  have  finished 
Macaulay.  He  remains  the  same  to  the  end :  very  brilliant, 
very  lively,  very  readable,  but  there  does  not  seem  to  be  in 
him  either  true  philosophy  or  true  religion — indeed,  the  one 
implies  the  other.  A  perfect  historian,  like  a  perfect  poet, 
should,  I  think,  be  a  man  eminently  religious,  or  how  can  he 
trace  the  deepest  meaning  of  things  ?  Think  you  not  so,  my 

154          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

dearest  Mary  ?  But  this  is  a  wide  field  for  discussion — yet  a 
very  interesting  one.  I  wish  we  could  grow  to  view  all  things 
more  religiously — to  make  other  days  as  Sundays,  and  not 
Sundays  as  other  days.  Let  us  strive  more  and  more  to 
do  so.  Ever  "remember,"  my  dearest  Mary. — Your  most 
affectionate  BROOKE  F.  WESTCOTT. 

Give  lots  of  love  to  everybody — as  much  as  you  can  spare. 

TRINITY  COLLEGE,  2.yh  April  1849. 

I  should  very  much  like  to  know,  my  dearest  Mary,  who 
taught  you  bird  language?  I  am  afraid  he  was  not  very 
skilful  in  his  profession.  I  will  tell  you  what  my  little  bird 
said :  that  if  you  were  not  reminded,  our  German  would  be 
forgotten.  Did  the  little  bird  say  true,  Marie?  I  have  the 
Musical  Library  now,  so  that  I  will  learn  two  or  three  pieces. 
Let  me  hear  your  choice.  I  have  begun,  as  you  recommended, 
with  "The  Blacksmith."  What  shall  I  try  next?  See  how 
restless  I  am.  To  see  me  practising  is  one  of  the  most  amusing 
sights  in  the  world.  I  play  a  few  bars,  and  then  run  on  to 
something  else,  and  so  on  ad  infinitum^  as  the  mathematicians 
say.  ...  I  have  put  my  ferns  under  glass  covers,  and  they 
are  thriving  wonderfully.  They  have  only  been  covered  up 
two  days,  and  their  advance  has  been  quite  marvellous.  .  .  . 
The  weather  at  length  seems  inclined  to  be  fair  again,  and  if 
it  does  really  prove  so,  I  don't  know  what  will  become  of  me. 
I  can't  work  when  I  am  not  obliged.  One  of  my  pupils  was 
first  in  Classics  in  the  Trinity  Scholarship  Exam.  Shall  I  not 
reap  laurels  soon  ?  If  my  Ashby  visitors  come,  they  must  be 
here  soon,  and  yet  the  leaves  have  not  attired  the  avenues  in 
their  proper  beauty.  Your  papa  says  you  are  to  come  up 
next  October,  so  that  the  stipulation  about  the  Fellowship  is 
not  needed.  Shall  we  not  look  forward  to  the  period  ?  What 
sights !  what  pleasures !  .  .  . 

TRINITY  COLLEGE,  \st  May  [1849]. 

...  I  am  now  in  active  training  for  my  Swiss  tour.  To 
day  I  pulled  on  the  river  for  more  than  an  hour,  and  I  intend 
to  continue  the  exercise  zealously.  Shall  I  explain  the  opinion 

in          CAMBRIDGE:  GRADUATE  LIFE       155 

I  stated  in  my  last  note  ?  When  I  spoke  of  a  future  state  in 
reference  to  the  Jews,  I  only  meant  to  say  that  their  revelation 
gave  them  no  direct  assurances :  I  don't  suppose  it  possible 
that  any  pious  man  at  any  time  could  have  been  really  deficient 
of  the  idea,  though  I  equally  firmly  believe  that  the  Christian 
alone  is  assured  of  it.  The  Jew  might  find  much  in  his 
Scriptures  which  might  encourage  the  hope  which  existed 
independently,  and  not  derived  from  them — as  in  the  instance 
our  Lord  quotes  in  the  Gospels.  But  then,  as  far  as  he  could 
show,  he  had  no  obvious  proof.  Christianity  and  our  Lord's 
resurrection  "brought  life  and  immortality  to  light."  Many, 
very  many  don't  agree  with  me.  I  believe  a  Professor  of 
Divinity,  a  precise  theologian,  said  that  the  sermon  was 
heresy  !  Heresy !  why,  the  word  will  soon  be  synonymous 
with  sobriety  and  independence  of  thought.  Do  you  under 
stand  me  ?  Of  course,  I  would  only  speak  with  great 
diffidence,  but  I  really  think  we  can  thus  see  the  inestimable 
advantages  of  Christianity  more  clearly.  ...  I  will  not 
trouble  you  with  any  more  philosophy  or  morality,  if  you 
will  confess  that  you  do  like  it.  My  Muse  is  sulky  and 
indisposed  still,  and  it  is  not  my  nature  to  coax ;  so  she  must 
wait  till  she  grows  better-tempered.  I  am  glad  that  you  like 
the  last  verses.  They  are  more  original,  I  fancy,  than  the 
others,  and  old  Aristotle  used  to  say  that  poets  and  parents 
loved  their  own  children  excessively. 

You  cannot  fancy  how  musical  we  were  last  night.  Two 
friends  came  and  sang  for  three  hours.  I  felt  the  proudest 
being  alive,  as  you  may  imagine.  My  practising  has  fallen 
off  the  last  two  days.  I  am  going  to  begin  Schiller's  Ballads 
to-night.  When  shall  we  resume  William  Tell?  To-day  I 
was  planning  part  of  our  tour.  It  included  all  the  localities 
mentioned  in  the  play.  We  shall,  I  hope,  stay  a  day  or  two  at 
Luzern  (why  did  I  affect  the  foreign  spelling  ?  pardon  me), 
and  see  the  Wetterhorn  and  the  Jungfrau,  and  TelFs  chapel, 
and  the  field  of  Sempach,  where  Arnold  of  Winkelried  died  so 
bravely,  and  the  hollow  way  where  Gessler  was  shot,  and  rocks 
and  avalanches  and  storms,  I  hope — but  at  a  distance.  I  dare 
not  hope  to  see  you  before  October.  However,  the  time  will 
soon  pass,  and  we  shall  both,  I  hope,  be  very  busy  listening  to 
Nature  as  well  as  books ;  for  after  all  she  is  the  great  teacher, 

156          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

and  her  lessons  may  be  had  for  looking  for  them  even  in  the 
dullest  place  or  gloomiest  day.  But  we  will  not  look  for  them 
too  often — and  then  again  they  seem  to  overwhelm  us.  I 
know  no  sensation  like  the  kind  of  swelling  which  one  feels 
on  a  really  sunshiny  day.  You  seem  as  if  you  could  fly,  but 
that  it  would  be  a  pity  to  leave  the  green  earth. 


.  .  .  This  evening,  if  I  have  time,  I  will  try  to  do  some 
Schiller,  and  enclose  it.  I  have  lately  been  reading  his  Life ; 
but  it  was  by  Bulwer — or  Lytton,  as  he  now  calls  himself — and 
though  there  is  much  in  him  to  admire,  I  confess  I  have  not 
found  my  ideal  poet.  He  considered,  truly  enough,  that  poetry 
was  a  work  and  a  duty,  and  a  training  for  others,  but  he  was 
not,  I  fear,  a  simple  Christian  ;  I  mean,  a  Christian  of  the  New 
Testament,  quite  distinct  from  sectarian  Christianity.  I  can't 
make  out  that  he  admitted  that  which  makes  Christianity 
what  it  is,  the  notion  of  a  mediator.  Yet  even  thus  he 
expounds  much  poetic  truth,  and  even  Wordsworth  does  not 
dwell  on  Christian  doctrine ;  but  THE  Christian  poet  is  yet  to 
be  seen,  for  I  never  will  accord  Milton  the  name.  It  is 
strange  that  there  has  been  no  great  Romanist  poet.  Why 
not,  when  the  papal  system  admits  every  addition  of  art,  and 
encourages  every  kind  of  symbolism  and  mystic  interpretation  ? 
Can  it  be  that  she  loves  neither  simplicity  nor  freedom  ? — I  will 
not  say  truth.  Have  I  not  suggested  to  you  an  ample  subject 
for  thought  ?  I  went  on  the  river  to-day  in  spite  of  the  rain, 
and  I  felt  it  do  me  good,  but  it  was  almost  a  penance ;  I  was 
the  solitary  spectacle.  I  have  Mendelssohn's  Six  Pieces.  There 
is  a  very  pretty  andante  in  them ;  the  others  are  so  so.  You 
may  guess  they  are  not  very  difficult,  for  I  can  murder  them. 
At  present  I  am  seriously  thinking  of  learning  to  sing.  I 
should  above  all  things  like  to  manage  a  glee  or  any  part 
music.  But  this  is  another  of  my  airy  schemes.  The  future 
must  speak  for  it. 

TRINITY  COLLEGE,  22 nd  May  1849. 

You  certainly  have  fair  claims,  my  dearest  Mary,  for  a  long 
note,  but  I  am  not  sure  that  I  can  write  one,  though  I  went 

in  CAMBRIDGE:  GRADUATE   LIFE        157 

out  to  look  at  the  trees  in  order  to  get  ideas.  We  have  had 
a  very  wet  morning,  but  the  afternoon  was  very  bright  and 
blue,  and  so  the  chestnut  trees  have  put  out  their  long  spikes 
of  flowers,  and  the  limes  have  assumed  their  fairest  green, 
while  there  is  still  just  enough  of  their  black  trunks  left  visible 
to  form  a  contrast.  Yet  though  the  limes  were  green,  and 
the  chestnuts  very  grand  with  their  massy  foliage,  and  the 
river  deep  and  broad,  and  rapid  with  its  swollen  stream,  my 
ideas  would  not  flow  fully  or  gracefully,  and  I  am  cast  again 
on  my  natural  resources.  ...  I  confess  that  at  times  I  feel 
utterly  lonely  and  friendless.  I  have  never  yet  found  any  one 
who  could  quite  share  my  doubts,  and  there  is  no  one  to 
whom  I  would  teach  them;  and  then — but  what  then? 
As  for  those  who,  as  you  say,  seem  to  think  it  their  whole 
life's  business  to  talk  about  opinions,  I  can  only  say,  that  if 
Christianity  is  not  a  work  in  truth  and  earnest,  I  don't  know 
what  it  is.  People  think — if  it  be  not  absurd  to  call  such 
vanity  thinking — that  Christianity  is  a  name,  Faith  a  word, 
and  forget  that  it  is  dead  unless  accompanied  by  "ITS  works," 
as  the  last  verse  of  James  ii.  should  be  translated.  What  a 
miserable  mistake  this  is ;  and  what  miserable  results  it  works 
the  poverty  and  wretchedness  and  vice  of  millions  testify ;  and 
not  less  loudly  the  emptiness  and  idleness  and  luxury  of  those 
whose  name  is  rich,  though  indeed  poorest  of  the  poor  in  all 
which  constitutes  true  wealth.  Don't  call  me  a  democrat  or 
republican  or  socialist  for  saying  all  this,  my  dearest  Mary ;  I 
am  nothing  of  the  kind.  I  don't  believe  we  can  ever  much 
improve,  but  at  any  rate  let  us  not  deceive  ourselves ;  let  us 
remember  that  WE  have  to  live,  if  all  around  us  are  sleeping ; 
and  let  us,  moreover,  remember,  which  too  many  of  those  who 
teach  this  doctrine  forget,  Carlyle  among  them,  that  the  New 
Testament  will  help  us  to  live  so,  and  NOTHING  ELSE.  We 
cannot  be  "  heroes  "  unless  God's  Spirit  works  with  us.  Then 
let  us  ever  more  and  more  seek  it  for  ourselves,  and  for  one 
another.  Let  us  realise  the  great  idea  that  "work  is  worship" — 
Laborare  est  orare,  as  the  old  monk  said  ;  that  is,  all  work  done 
in  an  earnest  and  prayerful  spirit.  Whatever  our  work  may 
be,  it  can  be  done  holily  and  piously.  May  we  do  all  our 
duties  not  for  praise  or  reward,  but  because  they  are  our 
duties.  Oh,  my  dearest  Mary,  how  I  wish  I  could  write  this 


158          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

not  on  paper  but  on  my  own  heart !  You  see,  Marie,  my 
resources  are  of  the  old  kind — the  words  are  of  the  old  sort ; 
but  even  if  I  do  repeat  myself,  it  is  well  at  times,  I  think,  for 
the  past  is  often  forgotten.  But  now,  my  own  dearest  Marie, 
farewell. — Ever  your  most  affectionate 


TRINITY  COLLEGE,  2$th  May. 

My  dearest  Mary — You  want  now,  I  fancy,  to  be  cheered  as 
much  as  I  did  a  week  ago,  if  you  "  have  no  hope  " — but  I 
don't  think  you  used  the  words  seriously.  You  are  still  full  of 
hope  are  you  not,  only  sometimes  tired  ?  I  feel  very  much 
more  vigorous  myself  than  I  have  for  some  time.  Yesterday 
I  talked  out  all  my  fancies,  and  when  seriously  examined  they 
are  not  so  very  monstrous,  practically — I  trust  not.  At  times 
I  seize  one  idea  and  work  it  out  in  all  its  consequences, 
without  regarding  how  much  it  is  modified  by  other  points. 
Others,  I  fancy,  are  guilty  of  the  same  error,  and  from  such 
distortions  of  particular  truths  the  worst  sectarianism  springs. 
I  may  yet  be  a  minister  of  our  own  Church,  which  at  times 
seems  to  me  almost  impossible ;  not  because  I  hold  opinions 
different  from  hundreds  who  are,  but  because  I  think  they 
don't  consider  points  which  they  should ;  though,  again,  I 
am  now  inclined  to  think  that  one  should  sacrifice  one's 
own  judgment  and  opinion  if  one  feels  that  one  may  be 
practically  useful,  and  our  Church  does  offer  a  glorious  field 
just  now. 

My  notions  about  my  little  book  are  still  notions.  I 
have  so  many  works  to  be  done  that  I  almost  despair  of 
accomplishing  all,  though  Switzerland  will  fill  me,  I  am  sure, 
with  marvellous  vigour.  I  am  so  bent  on  going  that  I  would 
even  go  by  myself  now.  I  must  see  the  mountains  and  the 
glaciers.  What  will  you  say  to  me  for  reading  Carlyle  ?  Will 
you  quite  despair  ?  I  don't  think  that  I  am  likely  to  become 
too  enthusiastic,  though  there  is  much  in  him  which  I  like. 
Is  it  not  right  to  learn  even  from  a  foe,  as  an  old  Latin 
proverb  says?  I  know  some  persons  think  they  flourish 
better  in  the  dark — as  my  Hymenophyllum  does,  for  instance : 

in  CAMBRIDGE:   GRADUATE  LIFE        159 

I  have  been  obliged  to  blacken  its  glass — but  for  my  own 
part  I  prefer  Ajax'  prayer,  which  you  remember  Keble 
quotes.  .  .  . 

TRINITY  COLLEGE,  26th  May  1849. 

...  I  am  in  very  good  spirits  for  my  journey  at  present, 
and  I  have  a  most  magnificent  pair  of  shoes — so  vast  that  my 
friends  can  scarcely  see  me  in  them  ;  and  when  duly  accoutred 
in  blouse,  knapsack,  and  alpenstock,  I  am  pretty  sure  they 
would  not  "  know  "  me.  .  .  .  When  shall  "  we  two  "  see  the 
mountains  ?  How  delighted  we  shall  be  to  see  them  together. 
But  what  air-castle  building  !  If  we  could  only  live  really,  the 
veriest  round  chalk  hill  would  be  delightful,  for  after  all  Nature 
must  first  receive  the  impress  of  our  own  feelings  before  she 
affects  us.  Byron  and  Wordsworth  could  not  hear  her  speak 
the  same  language.  I  have  been  indulging  this  evening  in 
some  of  my  old  revolutionary  talk  about  society :  grumbling, 
complaining  as  usual ;  I  wish  I  could  say,  doing  better,  i.e. 
proposing  remedies  or  acting  them ;  and  saddest  of  all,  have 
been  libelling  ladies.  .  .  . 

Whitsunday. — We  have  had  a  very  pleasant  day,  my  dearest 
Mary,  and  should  not  the  anniversary  of  such  a  season  be 
always  pleasant  ?  Of  all  days  it  most  affects  us  now  :  I  mean, 
we  all  continually  need  the  fresh  coming  of  the  Spirit.  We 
had  a  sermon  in  Chapel  on  a  verse  of  the  8th  Romans, 
and  I  read  over  the  chapter  carefully.  It  seems  to  me 
more  and  more  magnificent  when  compared  either  with  what 
the  wisest  have  written,  or  still  more  with  our  own  inmost 
hearts.  Is  there  not  intimated  in  that  a  mysterious  union 
between  man  and  creation  (so  "creature"  in  v.  19  should 
be  translated)  ?  and  would  not  that  alone  change  the  whole 
face  of  nature  to  a  Christian  ?  We  don't  look  earnestly  or 
often  enough  for  our  points  of  connexion  with  all  around 
us — things  or  persons — and  yet  isolation  is  death.  You  see, 
my  dearest  Mary,  I  am  striving  to  prepare  myself  for  seeing 
rightly — and  I  wish  it  were  a  principle  and  not  a  mere 
emotion  ;  and  yet  "  by  hope  we  are  saved,"  and  hope  is  of  the 
nature  of  an  emotion,  and  emotions  lead  to  actions ;  so  may 
mine — I  am  altogether  hopeful  to-day.  .  .  , 

160          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

10th  Sunday  after  Trinity,  1849. 

My  dearest  Mary — I  quite  forget  whether  we  have  ever 
talked  upon  the  subject  alluded  to  in  my  last  note — Baptismal 
Regeneration — but  I  think  we  have,  for  it  is  one  of  the  few 
points  on  which  I  have  clear  views,  and  which  is,  I  am  sure, 
more  misunderstood  and  misrepresented  than  any  other.  Do 
not  we  see  that  God  generally  employs  means,  I  will  not 
say  exclusively ;  that  He  has  appointed  an  outward  Church 
as  the  receptacle  of  His  promises,  and  outward  rites  for  ad 
mission  into  it,  and  thus  for  being  placed  in  a  relation  with 
Him  by  which  we  may  receive  His  further  grace ;  for  till  we 
are  so  connected  by  admission  into  His  outward  Church,  we 
have  no  right  to  think  that  He  will  convey  to  us  the  benefits 
of  His  spiritual  Church,  when  we  have  neglected  the  primary 
means  which  He  provides.  It  does  not,  of  course,  follow  that 
the  outward  and  spiritual  churches  are  coextensive,  that  all 
who  have  been  placed  in  relation  with  God  by  Baptism,  and 
so  made  heirs  of  heaven  conditionally,  will  avail  themselves  of 
that  relation  to  fulfil  those  conditions — and  here  lies  the 
ambiguity ;  because  a  child  is  born  again  into  the  Church  of 
God,  as  he  has  been  born  into  the  world  before,  people  seem 
to  conclude  that  he  must  discharge  all  the  duties  of  his  new 
station,  which  in  temporal  matters  we  know  he  does  not.  By 
birth  he  may,  if  he  will,  truly  live  here ;  by  baptism  he  may, 
if  he  will,  truly  live  for  ever.  I  do  not  say  that  Baptism  is 
absolutely  necessary,  though  from  the  words  of  Scripture  I  can 
see  no  exception,  but  I  do  think  we  have  no  right  to  exclaim 
against  the  idea  of  the  commencement  of  a  spiritual  life, 
conditionally  from  Baptism,  any  more  than  we  have  to  deny 
the  commencement  of  a  moral  life  from  birth.  .  .  .  You 
quite  misunderstood  my  scruples  about  Articles ;  it  is  that  I 
object  to  them  altogether,  and  not  to  any  particular  doctrines : 
I  have  at  times  fancied  that  it  is  presumptuous  in  us  to  attempt 
to  define,  and  to  determine  what  Scripture  has  not  defined ;  to 
limit  when  Scripture  has  placed  no  boundary ;  to  exact  what 
the  Apostles  did  not  require ;  to  preach  explicitly  what  they 
applied  practically.  The  whole  tenor  of  Scripture  seems  to 

in  CAMBRIDGE:  GRADUATE  LIFE        161 

me  opposed  to  all  dogmatism,  and  full  of  all  application ; 
to  furnish  us  with  rules  of  life,  and  not  food  for  reason ;  but 
perhaps  I  carried  this  idea  too  far,  for  as  men  will  reason,  it 
may  be  necessary  to  erect  landmarks  and  prescribe  bounds. 
I  only  wish  men  would  pay  more  attention  to  acting  and  less 
to  dogmatising.  You  will  now  understand  my  whole  meaning. 
It  is  not  perhaps  very  serious,  but  like  all  other  ideas  it  grows, 
and  I  doubt  whether  I  may  not  be  in  danger  of  yielding  more 
to  my  hopes  and  prospects  than  they  can  demand — even  my 
convictions  of  simple,  truthful  Christianity.  Yet,  my  dearest 
Mary,  ever  "  remember,"  and  then  we  cannot  go  wrong.  .  .  . 

TO    F.    W.    WlCKENDEN,    ESQ. 

TRINITY  COLLEGE,  2nd  August  1849. 

My  dear  Wickenden — Will  you  receive  a  note  from  me  in 
patience  now  ?  At  any  rate,  hear  my  explanation.  I  did  not 
return  to  Cambridge  till  long  after  Commemoration,  and  I 
found  a  letter  from  Moorsom  with  yours,  saying  that  you  had 
started  for  Ireland ;  and  my  spirit  of  loyalty,  which  you  know 
is  very  intense,  would  not  suffer  me  to  hold  any  communica 
tion  with  a  rebel  country,  so  that  I  could  not  write  till  I  heard 
that  you  were  once  more  in  a  situation  where  you  might  sing 
"  the  king  shall  have  his  own  again,"  without  collecting  a  mob 
of  riband-men  or  orange-men.  .  .  . 

To  F.  J.  A.  HORT,  ESQ. 

TRINITY  COLLEGE,  $tA  October  [1849]. 

Dear  Sir — I  cannot  at  present  say  quite  definitely  that 
I  shall  be  in  Cambridge  between  the  Triposes,  but  I  think 
it  most  probable.  In  that  case  it  will  give  me  very  great 
pleasure  to  read  with  you.  Perhaps  this  answer  will  be 
sufficient  till  I  see  you  here. — Believe  me,  yours  very  sin 
cerely,  BROOKE  F.  WESTCOTT. 

VOL.  I  M 

1 62          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 


TRINITY  COLLEGE,  $th  May  [1850]. 

...  I  do  not  think  that  any  allegories  can  equal  those  of 
Adams.  For  my  own  part,  I  prefer  The  Shadow  of  the  Cross 
and  The  Old  Man's  Home  to  the  other  two.  The  King's 
Messengers  seems  too  formal,  except  in  the  one  beautiful  idea 
which  the  name  contains.  The  whole  course  of  the  story — 
excepting  the  beautiful  description  of  Sophron's  death — is 
too  much  after  the  usual  course  to  strike  one;  and  then,  above 
all,  I  must  confess  that  I  read  it  directly  after  The  Old  Man's 
Jfome,  which  all  but  called  forth  my  tears,  hard-hearted  though 
I  am 

TRINITY  COLLEGE,  i$th  May  1850. 
My  dearest  Mary — 

As  you  blamed  my  Muse 
For  saucy  messages  last  time,  yet  choose 
To  make  an  explanation,  now  she  sends 
Her  gracious  pardon,  and  as  some  amends 
Would  add  a  rhyming  letter ;  but  I  know 
The  lady's  temper :  how  she  loves  to  show 
Her  little  airs  right  daintily,  and  tries 
By  turns  to  please  and  triumph.      In  her  lies 
The  sum  of  all  our  vanity,  and  yet 
Fancy  and  feeling  too  should  serve  to  whet 
The  mind  for  noble  struggles.     There's  a  tale 
You  may  remember — still  our  memories  fail — 
Told  by  Herodotus — a  moral  too 
Hangs  to  the  story.     Hark  !  I'll  tell  it  you. 
There  was  a  king  in  Egypt,  who  of  old 
Had  been  a  common  citizen,  but  bold, 
Skilful,  and  resolute,  he  gained  the  throne 
And  ruled  with  sovran  sway ;  each  day  alone 
He  sat  in  awful  majesty  till  noon, 
Dispensing  laws  and  justice.      But  how  soon 
The  scene  is  changed  ! — a  festive  banquet  now 
Succeeds  to  solemn  pageant.     Look  !  each  brow 
Is  crowned  with  garlands,  and  each  hand  extends 
The  sparkling  cup — lamps  glitter — incense  sends 

in  CAMBRIDGE:  GRADUATE  LIFE        163 

Its  reeking  steam  aloft — the  voice  of  song 

And  mirth  and  revelry  echoes  along 

The  royal  halls.      Rude  jest  and  ready  wit 

Pass  to  and  fro  ;  the  royal  troubles  sit, 

Or  seem  to  sit,  most  lightly  on  the  king. 

But  all  at  once,  within  the  noisy  ring, 

A  bearded  sage  appears.     With  sad  surprise 

He  looks  on  each  gay  face  ;  then  sternly  cries  : 

"  Is  this  the  due  of  royalty  ?  the  state 

Of  lordly  minds  ?     Methinks  an  evil  fate 

First  changed  a  peasant  to  a  king,  and  then] 

Hath  changed  the  king  into  a  clown  again." 

He  spoke  ;  and  where  he  looked  for  wrath,  a  smile 

Kindled  the  monarch's  eye,  who,  all  the  while 

Most  mildly  courteous,  to  the  sage  replied : 

"  My  father,  reverend  stranger,  when  he  died 

Gave  me  a  bow — his  only  legacy — 

And  as  he  gave  it,  thus  he  spoke  to  me  : 

*  My  son,  be  wise,  this  bow  will  serve  thee  long ; 

But  seek  not  thou  to  keep  it  ever  strung.' " 

So  ends  my  story,  and  at  length  my  rhyme 

Shall  turn  to  prose — you  laugh  and  say,  "  'Tis  time." 

You  may  account  how  you  can  for  the  above  strange 
vagary ;  I  am  not  in  high  spirits ;  it  has  not  been  a  fine  day ; 
I  have  not  been  particularly  pleased  with  anything.  Your 
message  suggested  a  merry  answer,  and  the  old  story  occurred 
to  me — one  not  to  be  forgotten  at  Cambridge.  But  how  can 
"  things  "  remember  or  forget  ?  I  will  prove  my  personality 
to  you  in  very  truth  when  you  come  to  Cambridge,  if  you  call 
me  a  thing  forsooth  !  .  .  . 

EDGBASTON,  ithjuly  [1850]. 

.  .  .  Yesterday,  as  we  intended,  we  went  to  the  Corn 
Exchange  to  hear  Dr.  Newman.  By  great  persuasion  I 
induced  my  papa  to  exceed  his  customary  sixpence  for  amuse 
ment  (?),  and  we  were  in  the  front  ranks.  My  curiosity  was, 
of  course,  intense,  and  the  appearance  of  the  lecturer  served 
to  increase  it.  He  looks  younger,  more  intellectual,  but  far 
less  "  pious  "  than  I  expected.  He  has  no  trace  of  feeling 
in  his  countenance,  no  mark  of  intense  devotion.  He  made 


1 64          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

a  long  discourse  on  tradition,  proving  that  Protestants  judge 
of  Romanism  by  tradition.  All  this  was  subtle  and  clever, 
but  did  not  tell.  Then  came  some  clever,  witty  jokes,  utterly 
irreverent,  utterly  unbecoming  a  Christian  minister.  The 
people  applauded,  and  I  felt  my  fears  allayed.  He  seemed 
to  enjoy  the  wit  himself,  and  yet  he  must  have  known  that 
sneers  are  not  arguments.  I  was  grieved — greatly  grieved — 
to  see  no  mark  of  respect,  no  indication  of  sympathy  with 
the  Church  in  which  he  so  long  ministered.  His  mere 
rhetorical  power  is  greater  than  I  anticipated ;  his  power  of 
argument  less;  his  capability  of  widely  influencing  English 
people,  I  think,  absolutely  nothing.  There  is  none  of  that 
insinuating  scepticism  about  him  which  I  fancied  there  might 
have  been ;  none  of  that  determined  enthusiasm  which  I  felt 
sure  there  would  be ;  and  shorn  of  these  two  influences  we 
need  not  fear  him.  , 



My  dear  Lightfoot — If  your  powers  of  mathematical 
calculation  are  to  be  judged  by  the  specimen  you  have  given 
me  this  morning,  there  is  no  hope  for  you — you  must  be 
plucked.1  You  have  produced  a  result  exactly  double  of  the 
true  one.  However,  even  if  you  are  plucked,  it  will  always 
be  to  me  a  great  pleasure  that  I  had  you  for  a  pupil. — Ever 
yours  most  sincerely,  BROOKE  F.  WESTCOTT. 

To  E.  W.  BENSON,  ESQ. 

ARROCHAR,  GLASGOW,  22nd  August  [1850], 

My  dear  Benson — Your  packet  did  not  come  soon  enough 
to  save  you  from  certain  mental  vituperations  which  might 
have  been  severer  at  any  other  place  than  Arrochar,  which 
does  not  leave  room  for  unpleasant  thoughts ;  but  when  it 
came,  how  could  I  complain  longer?  I  am  delighted  to 
hear  that  you  are  in  such  good  hands,  and  delighted  that 

1  My  father  regarded]".  B.  L.'s  fee  for  tuition  as  excessive.     At  one 
time  he  declined  to  receive  any  fee  from  E.  W.  B. 

in  CAMBRIDGE:  GRADUATE  LIFE        165 

our  College  numbers  Mr.  Martin  among  its  Fellows.  Was 
it  by  his  advice  that  you  commenced  Analytical  Conies? 
Surely  you  will  not  make  anything  of  the  subject  by  yourself, 
nor  should  I  think  it  advisable  for  you  to  read  it.  Did  you 
not  resolve  to  take  the  easier  subjects — Hydrostatics  and 
Optics — in  Goodwin?  Those  you  will  find  intelligible  and 
interesting.  At  the  same  time,  it  would  be  well  to  freshen 
your  recollection  of  Newton  and  mechanics  by  simple  ex 
amples.  I  should  most  strongly  recommend  you  to  take  this 
plan  ;  but  if  Mr.  Martin  thinks  otherwise,  I  should  like  to  hear 
from  you  again. 

You  will  not  readily  gain  my  pardon  for  certain  unnatural 
calumnies  against  the  Stagirite.  When  you  read  him  many 
times — I  mean  any  one  book  of  his — you  may  be  permitted 
to  compare  him  with  his  "rival,"  but  till  that  time  the 
Pythagorean  law  should  be  observed.  I  shall  hand  you 
over  to  Lightfoot  for  condign  punishment ;  he  will,  I  am 
sure,  execute  it  with  just  severity.  Have  you  dared  to  com 
plain  to  him  ? 

Scotland  has  hitherto  given  me  exceeding  delight.  The 
boundless  ranges  of  mountains  sufficiently  distinguish  the 
scenery  from  that  of  Wales,  and  their  grassy  slopes  from  that 
of  Switzerland,  so  that  I  do  not  find  any  loss  of  pleasure 
from  former  experiences.  A  little  snow  is  now  lying  on  the 
hills  opposite,  though  they  are  of  no  great  height,  and  our 
effeminacy  is  shown  by  having  fires. 

Remember  me  to  all  our  common  friends.  What  is 
Hutchinson  doing  ?  I  should  be  glad  to  hear  from  Whittard 
or  Lightfoot,  though  it  is  difficult  to  promise  an  answer. — 
Ever,  my  dear  Benson,  yours  very  sincerely, 


May  I  trouble  you  with  a  commission  ?  If  so,  will  you 
ask  Macmillan  to  send  me  a  copy  of  Credner's  Einleitung  in 
das  Neue  Test,  by  post,  if  he  can  procure  it. 

EDGBASTON,  $th  October  [1850]. 

My  dear  Benson — If  your  composition  had  been  in  less 
able  hands,  your  note  would  not  have  remained  unanswered 

1 66          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

so  long,  but  as  I  have  received  no  further  detachments,  I 
must  write  to  explain  my  long  silence.  I  reached  home 
yesterday,  after  a  very  pleasant  vacation,  with  the  very  highest 
admiration  for  Scotch  scenery  and  for  Scott's  novels,  and 
it  is  quite  impossible  to  enjoy  either  the  one  or  the  other 
thoroughly  without  a  long  residence  in  the  country.  Work 
has  progressed  favourably,  though  I  have  done  very  little 
myself,  except  gather  strength  for  the  future.  But  this  is  no 
light  thing  at  present.  I  am  now  looking  forward  to  work 
next  term  with  great  pleasure,  and  I  trust  your  mathematics 
will  be  in  a  state  to  undergo  divers  examination  papers  in  a 
certain  little  room  under  episcopal  surveillance,1  and  your 
mind  in  a  more  congenial  state  to  enjoy  the  waste  beauties 
of  the  Stagirite — for  I  trust  your  heresy  has  been  repressed 
by  Lightfoot's  cane. 

Excuse  my  hurried  note,  and  ever  believe  me,  my  dear 
Benson,  yours  most  sincerely, 



TRINITY  COLLEGE,  23^  October  [1850]. 

...  I  made  my  debut  as  a  singer  yesterday.  My  master 
proceeded  with  me  in  the  following  original  way.  i.  "Just 
sing  the  scale  that  I  may  see  what  your  voice  is."  I  obey. 
2.  "It's  a  tenor.  Well;  now  try  this  song  from  the  Messiah, 
while  I  play  it."  I  obey.  3.  "  Now  play  it  while  I  sing." 
Still  I  obey.  4.  "Well,  I  think  we  shall  go  on  successfully; 
and  you  must  get  some  piano  duets  from  the  library  that  we 
may  play  them  together ;  and  you  must  learn  these  two  songs 
by  Saturday."  This  is  rather  severe  work,  and  I  am  quite 
at  a  loss,  but  still  I  must  work  patiently.  It  gives  me  con 
fidence  to  have  a  teacher,  and  moreover  makes  me  careful. 
He  says  that  playing  is  everything.  Play  carefully,  and  with 
patience  you  will  sing  creditably — this  is  the  sum  of  my 
teaching.  .  .  . 

1  Bishop  Prince  Lee's  portrait. 

in          CAMBRIDGE:  GRADUATE  LIFE        167 

(On  his  Ordination  as  Deacon) 

MANCHESTER,  Trinity  Sunday ',  1851. 

This  morning,  my  dearest  Mary,  as  I  hoped,  I  was 
ordained  Deacon.  In  this  the  great  work  of  my  life  is 
begun,  and  so  in  part  of  your  life  too,  and  may  we  both  be 
enabled  to  discharge  it  with  all  zeal  and  diligence  and  love, 
"  to  the  glory  of  God's  name  and  the  edification  of  His 
Church."  Silence  at  such  a  time  is  perhaps  better  than 
many  words — silent,  earnest,  effectual  prayer.  Henceforth  I 
— and  you  with  me,  for  our  lives  must  be  one — are  pledged 
to  be,  as  far  as  in  me  lieth,  "  a  wholesome  example  to  the 
flock  of  Christ."  Who  could  undertake  such  a  pledge  save 
with  such  promises  as  the  Gospel  gives  us  ?  I  wonder  how  any 
dare  to  teach  but  in  the  strength  of  those  assurances  of  divine 
help  which  have  been  granted  to  our  weakness.  The  begin 
nings  of  all  new  works  are  most  important — habits  grow  from 
very  small  causes ;  and  so,  my  dearest  Mary,  pray  for  me  now 
most  earnestly,  that  I  may  be  enabled  to  begin  my  duties, 
whatever  they  may  be,  in  a  right  and  truthful  spirit,  even  as 
I  would  end  them.  ...  It  was  my  privilege  to  take  part  in 
the  service,  as  I  was  appointed  by  the  Bishop  to  read  the 
Gospel.  It  was  a  new  and  yet  a  natural  feeling  to  stand 
within  the  communion  rails  and  speak  to  a  congregation. 
Now  I  shall  feel  quite  ready  to  write  a  sermon ;  hitherto  it 
has  seemed  to  be  a  voluntary  intrusion  on  rights  which 
belonged  not  to  me.  I  do  not  see  any  reason  to  change  the 
text  which  I  chose  years  ago  for  my  first  effort — i  John  ii. 
1 7.  Can  you  suggest  to  me  any  better  ?  Should  you  prefer 
Rom.  xii.  i  ? l 

(On  his  Ordination  as  Priest) 

BOLTON,  list  December  1851. 

.  .  .  The  day  has  been  full  of  excitement  to  me,  and  yet, 
as  it  seemed,  in  the  words  of  the  first  Lesson,  full  of  "  quiet 
ness  and  peace  "  as  the  source  of  strength.  I  am  glad  that 

1  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Rom.  xii.  i  was  the  text  of  my  father's  first  sermon, 
and  he  used  to  declare  that  it  contained  all  that  he  had  since  preached. 

168          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

it  was  St.  Thomas'  Day  too,  for  the  Collect  is  very  beautiful. 
Oh,  Mary,  I  cannot  tell  you  how  I  felt  when  I  received  the 
commission  of  my  office.  When  the  hands  of  the  Bishop 
and  the  priests  were  resting  on  my  head,  I  felt  as  I  cannot 
feel  again.  It  seemed  like  a  fire  kindled  within  me,  and 
indeed  may  it  be  a  fire,  ever  burning  clearer  and  brighter ! 
It  will  need  to  be  fanned  often ;  and  may  I  never  quench  it ! 
Thus  I  speak  to  you,  my  dearest  Mary,  for  why  should  I  have 
a  thought  which  you  do  not  share  ?  I  trust  I  have  a  mission 
to  discharge.  I  trust  that  I  shall  have  strength  to  discharge 
it.  You  too  share  my  work,  and  so,  as  I  pray  for  myself,  I 
pray  for  you.  .  .  . 

TO    F.    W.    WlCKENDEN,    ESQ. 

TRINITY  COLLEGE,  igth  November  1851. 

My  dear  Wickenden — There  is  an  old  proverb,  I  think, 
to  the  effect  "  bis  dat  qui  cito  dat,"  and  do  you  think  that  a 
speedy  answer  will  seem  of  double  length — or  at  least  of 
double  substance  ?  .  .  .  You  now  suggest  a  topic  sufficiently 
extensive,  but  I  am  not  competent  to  give  a  general  answer, 
yet  on  the  whole  the  charge  pleased  me.  Its  tone  and 
language  and  statements  were  far  more  moderate  than  my 

fears    had   anticipated.      Even    seems    at  a    loss    for 

any  obviously  vulnerable  point,  and  is  obliged  to  regard 
the  Bishop  of  Manchester  as  a  new  "type"  of  "latitudin- 
arian  "  Episcopacy.  There  seem  to  be  some  errors  in  detail — 
e.g.  as  to  the  Scotch  Church — which  will  not  surprise  those 
who  know  that  the  Bishop's  strength  lies  elsewhere  than  in 
particulars ;  but  I  rejoice  to  see  the  position  which  he  assigns 
to  the  Occasional  services  and  Offertory,  and  to  notice  the 
earnestness  with  which  he  seeks  to  restore  an  outward  social 
vitality  to  our  Church.  You  ask  me  about  the  title  "Rev." 
Even  as  I  accord  the  title  "  Christian  "  to  all  who  claim  it, 
if  they  do  not  directly  deny  in  practice  the  profession  which 
they  make,  so  should  I  give  the  title  "Rev."  to  all  recognised 
religious  teachers — to  a  Rabbi,  an  Iman,  or  even  to  as  un 
certain  a  lecturer  as  E.  Dawson,  if  he  desired  it.  I  do  not 
think  that  we  pledge  ourselves  to  the  recognition  of  his 

in  CAMBRIDGE:  GRADUATE  LIFE        169 

office  personally,  but  merely  to  the  acknowledgment  of  his 
social  style.  If  a  person  seems  to  need  the  addition  "  Esq.," 
if  even  he  only  expects  it,  I  so  address  him ;  no  one  indeed 
supposes  that  my  judgment  rests  on  any  better  grounds  than 
courtesy.  In  this  way  I  find  no  difficulty  about  the  title 
"Rev."  The  term  itself  is  rather  literary  than  theological, 
and  was  certainly  given  (I  believe)  to  the  Bar.  As  for  the 
wider  question  of  foreign  Orders  (which  I  do  not,  you  will 
see,  in  any  way  connect  with  the  title  "  Rev."),  I  think  that 
there  is  great  truth  in  what  the  Bishop  says.  We  may  say 
that  non- episcopal  churches  are  maimed,  armless,  heartless, 
if  you  please,  but  still  I  can  see  no  ground  to  conclude  that 
they  are  headless,  lifeless.  Their  energy  may  be  curtailed, 
their  inter-communication  may  be  broken,  their  circulation 
may  be  sluggish,  but,  as  far  as  I  can  judge  by  their  fruits ', 
they  still  live.  In  saying  this  I  do  not  imply  that  the  Church 
of  England  recognises  foreign  (Presbyterian)  ordination  as 
adequate  for  ministration  in  her  services.  .  .  . 

To  J.  B.   LIGHTFOOT,  ESQ. 

BOLTON,  i8M  December  1851. 

My  dear  Lightfoot — Many,  many  thanks  for  your  kind 
note  and  testimonial,  which  I  shall  keep  among  my  most 
valued  treasures.  Whatever  may  be  my  future  fortunes 
and  my  future  work,  I  shall  always  look  back  on  my  years 
of  "  pupilising "  at  Cambridge  with  the  most  intense  satis 
faction.  I  do  not  think  that  any  one  can  have  ever  had  the 
same  delight  which  I  had  in  similar  work,  or  a  like  reward  to 
that  which  I  have  found  in  the  friendship  of  all  my  pupils. 
This,  I  trust,  I  may  always  retain  when  we  are  scattered  far 
and  wide,  each  doing  our  own  proper  work  hopefully  and 
faithfully.  Your  last  words  I  have  long  been  accustomed  to 
sum  up  in  the  one  word  "  remember."  Whether  Charles  I. 
interpreted  it  as  I  do,  I  do  not  know,  but  I  think  that  the 
word  is  nobly  used  in  my  sense.  Let  me  then  in  turn  ask 
you  to  "remember,"  especially  at  this  time,  yours  very  affec 
tionately,  BROOKE  F.  WESTCOTT. 

i;o          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

To  E.  W.  BENSON,  ESQ. 

KINGSDOWN,  BRISTOL,  ipth  December  [1851]. 

My  dear  Benson — Let  me  give  you,  and  through  you  all 
my  Cambridge  friends,  my  most  hearty  thanks  for  the  testi 
monial  which  I  received  this  morning.  If  I  were  an  elector 
it  would  have  more  influence  with  me  than  any  other.  You 
have,  indeed,  said  so  much,  so  very  much,  that  I  can  rightly 
use  the  picture  you  have  drawn  for  a  model,  if  not  for  ;a 
portrait,  for  you  have  described  me  as  I  wish  to  be,  and  so  I 
trust  to  realise  your  language  more  and  more,  as  I  am  enabled 
to  gain  fresh  energy  and  zeal  and  patience  in  coming  time. 
My  best  wish  for  those  of  you  who  will  work  at  Cambridge, 
as  I  have  worked  hitherto,  will  be,  that  you  may  first  meet 
with  pupils  such  as  I  have  found ;  my  best  wish  for  all,  that 
you  may  have  at  some  time  such  friends  as  I  have — may  I 
not  say  so  ? — in  my  pupils. 

The  fewest  words  are,  I  think,  the  best  to  express  thanks, 
or  rather,  to  indicate  the  feeling  which  cannot  be  expressed ; 
and  I  will  not  trouble  you  with  more  sentences  to  profess 
what  I  hope  may  be  seen  in  other  ways ;  and  you  will,  I 
know  from  all  you  say,  willingly  believe  that  I  am  most 
sensible  and  most  mindful  of  the  kindness  of  you  all. 

With  the  best  wishes,  I  am,  my  dear  Benson,  yours  very 
affectionately,  BROOKE  F.  WESTCOTT. 

To  F.  J.  A.  HORT,  ESQ. 

January  1852. 

With  regard  to  2  Thess.  ii.,  as  far  as  I  can  gather  from 
your  note,  you  have  come  to  the  same  conclusion  which  I 
reached:  that  the  doctrine  of  a  "  double- sense  "  applies  as 
truly  to  New  Testament  prophecies  as  to  those  of  the  Old 
Testament,  and  so  maintain  that  the  Apostle  takes  the  great 
anti-Christian  features  of  the  Roman  Empire  as  far  as  they  were 
spiritually  symbolical.  My  notion  of  a  prophet  is  that  he  is 
a  "seer" — not  an  organ.  The  construction  seems  to  me 
extremely  difficult.  I  hardly  know  what  view  you  can  take 

in  CAMBRIDGE:  GRADUATE  LIFE        171 

which  some  commentator  has  not  taken ;  but  I  shall  be  glad 
to  learn  what  it  is.  A  large  "  query "  is  all  which  I  have 
yet  appended  to  the  verse.  My  instinct — and  it  is  but  an 
instinct — leads  me  to  assent  to  Olshausen's  view  of  an  in 
carnation  of  evil.  Speaking  of  this,  I  am  reminded  of  an 
effort  I  made  to  get  a  special  subject  for  the  Maitland  Prize 
— "  The  Doctrinal  Relation  of  Buddhism  to  Christianity  " — 
which  involves  most  nearly  the  idea  of  a  Satanic  counter- 
incarnation  \  but  the  Vice  -  Chancellor  thought  it  was  too 
special,  and  the  result  is,  I  believe,  that  he  requires  an  essay 
on  "  The  Duty  and  Policy  of  Christian  Missions,"  which  is 
certainly  wide  enough.  I  wish  our  theses  gave  some  scope 
for  definite  investigation,  as  in  the  botanical  "  monograms," 
for  as  long  as  we  encourage  commonplace,  what  else  can  we 
expect  ? 

You  must  never  ask  me  for  news — I  never  know  any ;  and 
pray  do  not  tell  me  that  your  notes  are  dull,  or  I  shall  never 
have  courage  to  answer  them.  For  my  own  part,  I  should 
have  had  but  little  patience  with  a  H.  Walpole  for  my  corre 
spondent.  If  I  could  find  time  I  should  like  to  answer  your 
letter  by  coming  over  to  Chepstow  for  an  hour  or  two,  but 
that  will  be  impossible  now,  though  a  day's  sunshine  seems  to 
make  one  believe  i'n  anything. — Ever  yours  affectionately, 


To  E.  W.  BENSON,  ESQ. 

HARROW,  Sf/t  March  1852. 

My  dear  Benson — The  sight  of  your  handwriting,  even  if 
it  were  examination -like,  was  a  great  pleasure  to  me;  for  I 
had  long  been  anxious  to  hear  more  of  you  than  I  could 
learn  from  Scott.  But  how  shabby  a  return  I  shall  make  you  ! 
Here  note-writing  follows  of  necessity  after  a  mid-day  dinner, 
and  is  followed  by  an  afternoon  school ;  so  that  physicians 
may  delight  in  the  prospective  results.  Yet  I  feel  that  it  is 
good  for  me  to  be  here.  The  place  teaches  me  much  which 
Cambridge  could  not  teach,  and  which  we  must  all  learn.  If 
I  go  to  Jersey,  the  experience  will  be  invaluable ;  and  if  not, 

i;2          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT    CHAP,  m 

I  have  found  a  place  where  I  can  work  with  equal  usefulness. 
Dr.  Vaughan  offered  me  a  mastership  soon  after  I  came,  and" 
I  think  I  shall  accept  it  provisionally  in  default  of  Jersey. 
You  will  thus  see  that  I  am  not  very  anxious  about  the  latter 
place,  though  I  should  certainly  prefer  it.  I  do  not  think 
that  I  could  trouble  Dr.  Vaughan  for  a  testimonial.  The 
"administrators"  must  be  content  with  what  they  know 
already,  without  they  inquire  for  themselves.  It  does  not 
seem  that  I  can  interfere  further.  Do  you  not  agree  with  me  ? 
For  the  Tripos  list  I  shall  look  most  anxiously.  As  for 
fears,  they  are  always  urgent.  May  you  secure  all  you  wish 
— all  which  will  help  most  in  the  great  after -work  of  life. 
Pardon  my  hurry,  and  ever  believe  me,  yours  very  affec 
tionately,  BROOKE  F.  WESTCOTT. 

Can  you  come  to  Harrow?  I  can  offer  you  hospitality 
by  night,  if  not  company  by  day.  Do  come  if  you  are  at  all 



MY  father's  first  residence  at  Harrow  was  a  little  house 
opposite  to  the  gates  of  The  Park.  Here  he  was 
settled  early  in  1852,  busily  occupied  with  his  school 
duties,  which  were  mainly  concerned  with  the  com 
position  of  the  Sixth  Form,  which  Form  he  also  from 
time  to  time  took  in  class.  He  found  his  work  quite 
sufficient  to  fully  employ  his  energies,  as  the  following 
words  addressed  to  Mr.  Lightfoot  in  May  of  that  year 
testify  :— 

It  is  absolutely  my  duty  as  one  of  the  Harrow  masters  to 
protest  most  vigorously  against  your  expressions  of  surprise 
that  I  have  not  written.  As  a  matter  of  course,  we  are  excused 
from  all  correspondence  whatsoever,  as  far  as  writing  goes, 
and  our  friends  seek  to  do  all  they  can  to  cheer  us  in  our 
work  by  writing  often  and  at  length.  See  my  theory !  and 
yet  it  is  not  mine  only,  but  the  received  view  of  things. 

Last  night  I  executed  the  only  piece  of  work  which  the 
College  has  allowed  me  to  do  for  her,  and  set  an  Ecclesiastical 
History  paper  for  "  the  May."  How  delightful  it  would  have 
been  to  have  come  down  for  ten  days  to  examine ;  but  it  was 
quite  out  of  the  question. 

Our  vacation  is  yet  very  distant,  and  I  have  no  notion 


174          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

what  I  shall  do  in  it.  I  fear  that  I  shall  not  be  able  to  get 
a  house  till  Christmas,  and  that  will  tend  to  throw  all  my 
plans  into  confusion.  However,  I  always  was  an  optimist, 
and  I  shall  remain  true  to  my  faith. 

His  devotion  to  Harrow  and  his  work  there  was 
very  whole-hearted.  The  Hon.  A.  Gordon  (now  Lord 
Stanmore),  who  visited  him  in  July  1852,  in  a  letter  to 
Mr.  Benson  thus  describes  his  impressions  of  his  day 
at  Harrow : — 

Just  before  we  left  London  I  went  to  spend  a  day  with 
Westcott.  We  had  a  delightful  long  walk  and  talk,  in  the 
course  of  which  we  discussed  all  sorts  of  things.  I  was 
amused  to  see  how  Harrow  had  changed  him.  He  says  he 
has  given  up  all  theories  of  education  after  having  tried  his 
own  for  a  fortnight !  He  seems  heart  and  soul  devoted  to 
Harrow,  which  he  pronounces  the  best  school  in  the  world ! 
I  have  not  enjoyed  a  day  more  for  a  long  while. 

He  had  the  most  complete  confidence  in  his  Head, 
Dr.  Vaughan,  and  found  congenial  friends  among  his 
colleagues  on  the  staff.  The  Harrow  masters  at  this 
time  were  indeed  a  distinguished  body.  My  father's 
most  intimate  Harrow  friends  were  probably  the  Rev. 
F.  Kendall,  also  an  old  Birmingham  boy  ;  the  Rev. 
F.  W.  Farrar,  the  present  Dean  of  Canterbury  ;  and  the 
Rev.  H.  W.  Watson.1  The  one  thing  needed  to  com 
plete  his  life  was  the  partner  to  whom  he  had  been 
so  long  attached.  He  states  this  in  a  letter  to  Mr. 
Lightfoot : — 

HARROW,  nth  September  1852. 

.  .  .  My  feelings  with  regard  to  Harrow  remain  still  un 
changed.  I  do  not  fancy  that  any  school  offers  so  good  a 

1  Rector  of  Berks  well,  Coventry.  The  well-known  mathematician  and 


HARROW  175 

field  for  training.  I  can  enter  into  the  system  heartily,  and 
with  the  most  perfect  confidence  in  our  head.  Vaughan  is 
almost  too  kind,  and  yet  withal  clear  and  very  decided  in  his 
views.  As  I  told  you  before,  I  feel  that  the  work  is  doing  me 
good,  and  I  hope  that  I  may  be  able  to  profit  by  it  as  I  should. 
I  should,  however,  be  glad  to  have  some  one  here  to  share 
my  little  cares  and  troubles,  which  come  more  frequently 
than  in  a  College  life ;  but  for  this  I  must  yet  wait  at  least 
till  Christmas. 

On  23rd  December  1852  my  father  was  married  in 
St.  James'  Church,  Bristol,  to  Sarah  Louisa  Mary 
Whittard  ;  and  after  the  Christmas  holidays  they  set 
up  house  together  at  "  The  Butts."  His  Cambridge 
pupils  seized  the  opportunity  of  his  wedding  to  bestow 
on  him  some  tangible  proof  of  their  affection.  This 
wedding  gift  was  a  very  handsome  silver-gilt  inkstand, 
which  my  father  always  valued  very  highly.1  Writing 
to  Mr.  Lightfoot  to  acknowledge  the  gift,  he  says  : — 

HARROW,  12th  January  1853. 

It  is  always  quite  vain  to  expect  that  our  words  will  ever 
answer  to  our  deepest  feelings ;  so  I  shall  make  no  attempt 
to  tell  you  how  great  was  the  pleasure  with  which  we  received 
your  note  and  the  most  beautiful  gift  which  accompanied  it. 
To  me  it  was  most  precious  at  this  time,  for  I  had  a  double 
pleasure  in  seeing  the  delight  with  which  my  wife  welcomed 
such  a  proof  of  affection.  Receive  then  our  hearty  thanks, 
and  pardon  the  absence  of  many  words.  Both  Mary  and  myself 
think  that  you  will  know  what  we  feel  far  better  than  we  can 
express  it. 

I  can  never  look  back  on  my  Cambridge  life  with  sufficient 
thankfulness.  Above  all,  those  hours  which  were  spent  over 

1  He  laughingly  said  at  the  time  when  he  received  this  gift,  that  he 
would  never  use  it  until  he  signed  a  name  that  was  not  his  own.  When, 
therefore,  he  became  a  bishop,  his  wife  and  family  insisted  on  having  the 
inkpot  filled,  and  constrained  him  to  fulfil  his  vow. 

176          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

Plato  and  Aristotle  have  wrought  that  in  me  which  I  pray 
may  never  be  done  away.  There  is  scarcely  one  who  was 
once  called  my  pupil  whom  I  may  not  now  call  my  friend ; 
and  I  trust  to  keep  ever  unbroken  the  ties  formed  so 

You  know  how  much  we  need  your  prayers,  and  we  are 
assured  that  we  shall  have  them.  May  you  and  all  in  whose 
name  you  write  have  every  blessing.  We  must  often 
"  remember  "  you. 

On  the  same  day  he  wrote  to  Mr.  Benson  also, 
thanking  him  for  his  share  in  the  gift  and  for  his  con 
gratulations.  He  adds  thereto  a  prayer  that  Mr. 
Benson,  who  had  just  been  ordained,  may  receive  every 
blessing  and  all  strength  for  his  work,  and  concludes 
with  the  words  :  "As  is  ever  the  case,  may  you  find 
comfort  and  joy  and  spiritual  growth  in  ministering  to 

In  August  1854  my  father  paid  a  visit  to  the  south 
of  France.  He  has  left  in  his  diary  an  unusually  full 
account  of  his  experiences  on  this  tour.  From  the  6th 
to  the  8th  he  was  staying  at  Clermont,  and  thus 
describes  his  doings  : — 

6th  August. — My  rest  in  the  diligence  gave  me  no  excuse  for 
late  indulgence  this  morning,  and  so  after  breakfast  I  walked 
to  Notre  Dame  du  Port,  passing  the  Cathedral,  for  the  scene 
of  St.  Bernard's  triumph  merits  precedence  even  before  the 
resting-place  of  Massillon.  The  church  is  an  exquisite  and 
perfect  specimen  of  Romanesque.  The  modern  stained 
glass  very  good  in  its  general  effect.  Kneeling  among  the 
crowd  gathered  there  to  worship,  and  conscious  of  my  real 
isolation,  I  could  not  fail  to  remember,  even  with  comfort,  the 
famous  words  "Dieu  le  volt."  The  time  shall  be,  I  hope, 
when  some  of  that  congregation  shall  be  received  with  us. 

In  the  afternoon  walked  up  the  valley  past  Royat.  The 
scenery  is  very  beautiful.  A  deep  gorge  lies  between  well- 
wooded  hills ;  through  it  a  stream  leaps  and  sparkles,  making 

iv  HARROW  177 

pleasant  music  in  the  sunshine.  Here  and  there,  perched  on 
little  cliffs,  showing  grey  through  the  walnuts,  rise  Italian-like, 
ridge- tiled  houses;  above  them  all  the  quaint  Romanesque 
church,  and  blue  in  the  distance  the  Puy  itself.  I  could  not 
resist  the  temptation  to  make  a  little  sketch,  but  in  a  minute  or 
two  a  heavy  storm  came  on  and  my  task  was  broken  off.  In 
returning  I  was  drenched ;  but  in  spite  of  that  the  day  was 
full  of  enjoyment. 

y/$. — Warned  by  my  experience  of  yesterday,  I  bought  a 
very  primitive  parapluie  before  I  started  off  for  the  ascent  of 
the  Puy.  Throughout  the  day  it  did  me  good  service  in 
sunshine  and  rain.  The  views  as  you  ascend  the  plateau  are 
very  fine.  The  grand  situation  of  Clermont  becomes  more 
and  more  evident.  A  little  mist  fell  as  I  came  just  under 
the  cone  of  the  Puy,  but  it  served  the  purpose  of  a  spring,  and 
I  was  thankful  to  gather  the  drops  which  were  collected  on 
the  leaves  of  the  bracken.  The  side  which  I  chose  for  my 
ascent  was  unfortunate.  I  never  had  a  harder  climb ;  but  it 
was  rewarded.  Light  fleecy  clouds  floated  about  here,  and 
there  a  dark  storm  rolled  along,  shading  the  mountain  sides. 
At  times  it  rained  pretty  heavily,  but  le  Puy  kept  clear  of 
mists,  and  the  distance  seemed  grander  for  being  measured 
by  the  clouds.  The  Nid  de  Poule  is  remarkable.  I  came 
upon  it  suddenly,  and  the  impression  was — may  I  not  say  it  ? 
— sublime.  The  course  of  the  lava  current,  which  issued 
from  one  side  of  it,  is  clearly  marked,  and  the  sight  of  such 
desolation  gives  an  idea  which  cannot  well  be  put  into  words. 

8/$. — This  morning,  armed  again  with  my  faithful  umbrella, 
which  has  begun  to  assume  the  battered  appearance  of  a 
veteran  a  little  prematurely,  I  started  for  Gergovia.  The  road 
lies  along  the  highway  for  five  or  six  miles,  and  the  heaps  of 
stones  opened  to  me  mines  of  geological  treasures.  I  almost 
wished  that  I  was  an  entomologist.  I  saw  some  glorious 
butterflies  :  Painted-ladies,  Swallow-tails,  a  Camberwell  beauty, 
Clouded  yellows,  Tortoise-shells,  and  Fritillaries  of  all  kinds, 
and  one  I  did  not  recognise,  not  very  unlike  a  White  admiral. 
The  hill  of  Gergovia  is  striking  in  form,  an  admirable  position 
for  a  Gallic  army.  The  summit  is  a  long  plateau,  and  the 
sides  are  steep  and  in  parts  inaccessible.  The  stone  rampart 
along  the  south  is  very  clearly  marked.  The  east  side  is 

VOL.  I  N 

1 78          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

boldly  escarped,  and  the  view  is  beautiful.  On  descending, 
as  I  had  forgotten  all  my  stores,  I  went  into  a  little  village 
auberge  for  some  bread  and  wine,  which  were  good,  cheap,  and 
clean.  On  my  return  I  confess  to  being  tired.  I  had  tea  in 
the  evening,  which  was  a  most  refreshing  luxury. 

Passing  over  an  interesting  week,  we  come  to  his 
stay  at  Lyons  : — 

At  Lyons  my  patience  was  tried  by  the  execrable  arrange 
ments  (?)  about  baggage.  Octroi  is  an  infinitely  extended 
customs  examination,  and  all  my  troubles  were  climacterised 
by  being  made  to  pay  a  franc  for  the  transport  of  my  port 
manteau  for  about  a  hundred  yards.  In  vain  I  protested. 
Every  one  assured  me  that  it  was  the  fixed  tariff;  but  to  this 
present  I  believe  it  is  the  tariff  of  Englishmen  only. 

i  ith  August. — Lyons  appears  to  me  to  be  one  of  the  finest 
cities  in  the  world.  It  is  truly  queenly.  I  climbed  the  hill 
to  Fourvieres,  and  found  the  road  better  than  I  had  expected. 
The  little  street  leading  to  the  church  of  Notre  Dame  offers 
a  strange  sight,  every  house  being  full  of  offerings  destined 
to  decorate  the  church.  The  exterior  of  the  church  announces 
some  of  the  greater  benefits  which  the  Patroness  of  Lyons  is 
supposed  to  have  secured  to  the  city — freedom  from  cholera 
on  two  occasions,  1831  and  1835.  After  all,  is  it  not  better 
to  see  in  this,  and  openly  acknowledge,  however  rudely,  the 
working  of  Providence,  than  to  speak  only  of  sanitary  reform  ? 
Some  of  the  tablets  which  cover  the  wall  are  very  interesting. 
One  announces  the  answer  of  the  long  continued  prayers  of 
daughters  for  a  father,  who  at  last  received  the  Holy 
Eucharist.  The  church  was  full  of  devout  worshippers. 
After  getting  a  little  familiar  with  the  view  from  the  terrace, 
I  mounted  the  Observatory,  and  I  should  fancy  there  are  few 
such  views  in  the  world.  On  every  side  it  is  full  of  interest 
and  beauty.  If  we  could  not  see  Mount  Blanc,  I  was  satisfied 
with  the  Jura ;  and  I  do  not  think  I  would  have  parted  with 
the  soft  deep  atmosphere  and  fleecy  clouds  even  to  have 
secured  a  view  of  the  king  of  mountains.  The  Rhone  and 
Saone  can  be  traced  to  the  junction.  Through  the  telescope 

iv  HARROW  179 

the  remains  of  the  Roman  aqueduct  are  clearly  seen.  There 
rises  the  little  pyramid  of  Auray;  there  the  quarter  of  the 
Croix  Rousse,  and  above  it  the  threatening  batteries  of  the 
fortifications ;  there  the  dome  of  the  Hotel  Dieu  (fine  name 
it  is).  The  inscriptions  in  the  book  are  interesting  and 
characteristic.  Few  English,  Spanish,  and  German ;  many 
American ;  most  French.  An  American  records  his  opinion 
that  the  view  is  "considerable  pumpkins,"  an  opinion  which 
wins  the  approbation  of  his  next  following  countryman.  The 
Spaniard  expresses  his  admiration  with  dignity.  The  English 
man  gives  his  address  ;  the  German  his  titles.  The  Frenchman 
often  adds  some  little  prayer  to  Notre  Dame. 

From  the  Observatory  I  passed  by  some  Roman  remains 
to  the  churches  of  St.  Irenaeus  and  St.  Juste  and  then  to  the 
Cathedral.  The  Cathedral  has  much  that  is  interesting,  but 
my  eye  has  been  spoiled  for  anything  of  second-rate  excellence 
by  Bourges.  The  interest  of  the  church  at  Auray  was  very 
different,  and  I  enjoyed  an  hour  or  two  there  in  sketching, 
and  wishing  that  the  restorers  had  left  well  alone.  Those 
four  granite  pillars  in  the  centre  tell  a  strange  tale. 

The  last  days  of  my  father's  sojourn  in  France  were 
spent  in  Paris.  On  this,  as  on  other  occasions,  he 
spent  much  time  in  the  Bibliotheque  working  at  MSS. 
Of  his  Sunday  he  writes  : — 

In  the  morning  go  to  the  English  Chapel.  The  singing  as 
before  very  poor  and  unecclesiastical.  When  will  our  church 
be  well  represented  to  foreigners  ?  The  Bishop  of  London 
even  promised  to  come  over  to  Confirm,  but  at  the  last 
moment  he  withdraws.  There  is  something  of  zeal  wanting 
among  us.  After  service  walk  through  the  Louvre.  A  well- 
behaved  crowd  filled  the  rooms,  but  I  could  see  little  of  study 
or  deeper  enjoyment.  The  chief  attraction  was  the  Napoleon 
room.  Round  every  article — bed  or  chair  or  cabinet,  hat  or 
coat  or  cloak  of  state — numbers  affectionately  hung.  The 
man  must  have  been  a  great  man  who  can  thus  have  identified 
himself  with  a  nation.  To  me,  I  confess,  the  splendid 
decorations  of  Louis  XVI.  and  Marie  Antoinette  were  more 

i8o         LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

attractive.  The  fan  and  slipper,  rich  and  delicate,  had  a 
deep  moral.  There  were  obvious  sermons  in  these,  and  not 
less  striking  in  the  devotional  books  of  Charlemagne,  St. 
Louis,  and  Henri  XIV.  On  the  whole,  I  do  not  think  that  I 
saw  anything  in  the  whole  exhibition  which  inclined  me  to 
open  such  places  on  Sunday. 

In  1855  my  father,  on  the  occasion  of  a  visit  to 
Cambridge,  met  Professor  Tischendorf,  the  eminent 
biblical  scholar.  These  two  great  authorities  on  the 
text  of  the  New  Testament  seem  to  have  encountered 
one  another  by  accident  in  the  University  Library. 
They  conversed  in  French,  and  the  outcome  of  it  was 
that  my  father  was  not  favourably  impressed  by  the 
famous  German  scholar.  Cambridge  generally  seems  to 
have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  Professor  Tischendorf 
was  a  man  of  one  idea,  that  idea  being  "  Palimpsests  and 

In  the  same  year  appeared  the  first  edition  of  my 
father's  General  Survey  of  the  History  of  the  Canon  of 
the  New  Testament. 

He  dedicated  this  work  to  his  old  master,  Bishop 
Prince  Lee.  In  acknowledging  the  gift,  the  Bishop 
says  :  "  The  dedication  is  most  gratifying  to  me, 
combining  as  it  does  both  pleasurable  recollections  of 
our  past  work,  with  the  sense  of  your  present  good 
will,  and  the  assurance  that  '  non  omnis  moriar '  in  a 
work  which  I  have  already  read  enough  of  to  see  it  is 
of  value  and  will  last."  Some  years  later  my  father 
wrote  to  Mr.  Macmillan  asking  him  to  send  a  copy  of 
a  new  edition  of  this  work  to  the  Library  of  Trinity 
College,  because,  to  quote  his  own  words,  "  It  seems 
(strange  compliment !)  that  the  copy  of  the  first  edition 
is  one  of  the  two  books  which  have  disappeared  from 
the  library  in  the  last  ten  years." 


HARROW  181 

The  Easter  holidays  of  1856  were  devoted  to 
geologising,  this  being  almost  the  last  occasion  when 
my  father  suffered  acutely  from  the  geological  fever. 
He  never  shook  it  off  entirely.  He  thus  writes  to  his 
wife : — 

FARRINGDON,  April  1856. 

Did  you  ever  see  an  enthusiastic  geologist,  my  dearest 
Mary,  with  two  immense  masses  of  "  conglomerate  "  weighing 
down  his  feet,  a  large  umbrella  overhead,  and  a  stout  heart 
within  ?  If  you  never  have,  you  might  have  had  the  sight  to 
day  at  "  Lamb's  Close  quarry  "  between  the  hours  of  ten  and 
twelve.  The  morning  very  early  was  magnificently  fine,  but 
when  breakfast  was  over  the  rain  was  falling  in  torrents. 
But  what  matter  ?  I  went  out,  and  in  sunshine  and  rain,  and 
above  all  in  mud,  I  collected  a  few  interesting  fossils.  Then 
I  returned  and  spent  the  rest  of  the  morning  in  cleaning  and 
packing,  and  at  half-past  one  Mr.  Adam  came  in  a  very  neat 
black  tie  (as  you  are  particular  in  your  inquiries)  and  in 
capital  spirits,  in  spite  of  the  rain.  Chops  refreshed  us  for 
our  afternoon's  work,  and  starting  in  rain  we  soon  had 
sunshine  to  reward  us,  and  the  sunshine  lasted  all  the 
afternoon.  To  my  other  fossils  I  added  a  few  bones  and 
teeth,  which  are  interesting.  To  -  morrow  we  start  for 
Chippenham.  We  find  that  something  must  be  sacrificed, 
and  Swindon  is  the  least  important  victim. 

It  was  a  great  satisfaction  to  hear  that  you  reached  Bristol 
so  well.  Katie  is  evidently  not  of  a  philosophical  frame  of 
mind.  We  must  teach  her  to  adapt  herself  to  circumstances, 
and  not  drive  poor  gentlemen  from  railway  carriages.  How 
ever,  Mary  is  a  model  traveller. 

If  you  go  to  Clifton  you  may  make  anticipatory  inquiries 
of  the  fossil  man,  and  learn  anything  of  the  stone-pits  at 
Westbury.  The  geological  fever  is  at  its  height.  By  Saturday 
I  expect  I  shall  call  you  a  "chenendopora,"  or  my  dear 
"scyphica,"  or  call  you  an  admirable  cabinet  specimen. 
Take  care  you  are  not  put  into  a  dish  of  muriatic  acid  to 
bring  out  your  good  features.  But,  indeed,  I  must  not 
chatter  longer. 


1 82          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

It  had  been  my  father's  intention  to  spend  his 
summer  holidays  of  1856  at  Bonn,  with  a  view  to 
studying  German.  He  said  at  the  time,  "  I  am  so  full 
of  the  notion  that  I  expect  to  come  back  half  a 
German  student ;  but  I  cannot  even  in  fancy  picture 
either  the  sword  or  the  pipe  as  part  of  my  dress.  I 
am  bent  more  on  work  than  on  pleasure.  However,  I 
shall  take  a  sketch-book  with  me,  and  the  rage  for 
1  Prout's  Brown '  has  not  yet  quite  exhausted  itself." 
This  solitary  expedition  did  not,  however,  come  off; 
but  the  idea  was  realised  two  years  later,  when  he  went 
to  Dresden  with  a  friend,  Mr.  R.  M.  Hensley.1  He 
thus  describes  their  method  of  procedure  there  : — 

...  As  soon  as  breakfast  is  over  our  German  master, 
N.  von  Schweintz,  comes  in  with  some  copy-books,  a  volume 
of  Goethe,  and  a  grammar.  We  begin  reading  aloud, 
construing  little  fragments,  and  then  writing  some  from 
dictation.  Meanwhile  a  little  conversation  goes  on.  Old 
recollections  are  renewed  by  the  familiar  uzum  Beispiel." 
The  dictation  is  corrected,  a  piece  given  for  German  transla 
tion,  and  an  hour  and  a  half  is  gone.  This  over,  I  start  to 
the  Library,  where  I  work  till  it  closes,  and  perhaps  think  of 
the  luxury  and  quiet  of  our  reading  room  in  the  incessant 
chatter.  However,  I  do  some  work,  and  find  about  one- 
fourth  of  the  books  I  want,  for  there  is  only  a  very  poor 
collection  of  modern  Theology.  At  one  we  meet  and  boldly 
go  to  a  restauration,  where  we  dine  sumptuously  on  three  or 
four  courses  for  about  a  shilling. 

While  in  Dresden  my  father  frequently  visited  the 
Picture  Gallery.  One  of  his  favourite  pictures  was 
Titian's  "  Tribute  Money."  He  writes  of  it  thus  : — 

It  seems  to  me  one  of  the  most  "  feeling  "  pictures  which 
I  have  ever  seen.  The  head  of  our  Lord  shows  a  sorrowful 

1  Now  Sir  Robert  Hensley,  Chairman  of  the  Metropolitan  Asylums 

iv  HARROW  183 

dignity  of  rebuke  which  is  marvellous.  He  penetrates  to  the 
very  bottom  of  the  question  and  the  trick — nay,  it  is  all  open 
before  Him.  He  almost  expostulates  with  His  adversary  for 
his  powerless  cunning ;  and  the  Herodian  looks  as  one  who 
believes  in  nothing,  who  has  pleasure  merely  in  raising  a 
difficulty — keen,  sceptical,  faithless. 

Of  the  Sixtine  Madonna  he  says  : — 

It  is  smaller  than  I  expected,  and  the  colouring  is  less 
rich,  but  in  expression  it  is  perfect.  The  face  of  the  Virgin 
is  unspeakably  beautiful.  I  looked  till  the  lip  seemed  to 
tremble  with  intensity  of  feeling — of  feeling  simply,  for  it 
would  be  impossible  to  say  whether  it  be  awe  or  joy  or  hope 
— humanity  shrinking  before  the  divine,  or  swelling  with  its 
conscious  possession.  It  is  enough  that  there  is  deep, 
intensely  deep  emotion,  such  as  the  mother  of  the  Lord  may 
have  had.  I  cannot  fully  understand  the  two  cherubs  yet. 
The  taller — the  contemplative — is  infinitely  more  beautiful 
in  the  picture  than  in  the  engraving ;  the  other  —  the 
meditative — is  somewhat  dull  at  first  sight,  but  I  must  study 
his  expression  more  carefully. 

Again  he  says  of  the  same  picture  : — 

The  Virgin's  head  offers  the  exact  contrast  to  that  of  the 
Saviour.  In  that  there  is  the  least  human  development  with 
the  fulness  of  divine  power;  in  the  other  the  fulness  of 
humanity  overpowered  by  the  presence  of  the  divine.  A 
somewhat  similar  contrast  seems  to  hold  between  the  two 
subsidiary  figures.  St.  Barbara,  in  the  freshness  of  exquisite 
beauty,  dares  not  look  up  at  the  godlike  vision.  Sixtus,  worn 
out  with  age,  lifts  up  his  grey  head  in  thankful  adoration. 
For  symmetry's  sake  I  should  like  to  carry  the  same  idea  to 
the  cherubs,  but  I  cannot  at  present — active  contemplation, 
inward  meditation,  this  is  what  they  represent.  But  yet  I 
do  not  see  their  exact  relation  to  the  other  figures,  or  why 
they  carry  our  thoughts  out  of  the  picture.  But  without  them 
the  picture  would  be  more  incomplete  than  the  engraving, 
and  in  time  the  whole  will  grow  more  clear. 


1 84          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

Another  picture  that  pleased  him  was  a  figure  of 
St.  Roderigo  by  Murillo.  Of  this  he  says  : — 

The  painter  has  succeeded  in  giving  what  seems  to  be  the 
Christian  ideal  of  martyrdom.  St.  Roderigo  stands  in  his 
priestly  robes  with  the  palm-branch  in  his  hand,  and  with  his 
eyes  turned  to  heaven.  An  angel  appears  to  him  with  a 
chaplet  of  flowers  ready  to  place  it  on  his  head,  and  the  saint 
seems  to  say  with  deepest  faith,  "  If  thou  wilt — the  crown  : 
yet  what  thou  wilt."  A  slight  blood-stained  mark  round 
his  neck  alone  tells  of  suffering  and  violence.  The  angel 
alone  is  with  him.  His  enemies  are  unseen  or  unnoticed. 

Generally  in  scenes  of  martyrdom  one  is  horrified  by  all 
the  external  instruments  of  torture.  The  outward  overcomes 
the  inward  in  the  impression  on  the  spectator.  Here  it  is 
all  otherwise,  and  I  shall  see  for  long  the  solemn  figure  with 
heavenward  face  which  tells  of  the  inward  victory  at  the 
moment  of  suffering. 

One  other  picture  is  very  striking  in  its  conception, 
though  the  execution  seems  to  me  faulty  in  many  parts.  The 
subject  is  the  Magdalen.  She  is  kneeling  before  an  open 
grave.  Her  only  dress  is  her  long  wavy  hair,  which  falls  in 
rippled  ringlets  to  her  feet — no  word  but  "rippled"  could 
describe  the  bright  gleaming  eddies  which  the  hair  makes — 
and  a  winding-sheet  which  an  angel  is  folding  round  her. 
Her  eyes  are  swimming  in  tears,  and  she  looks  to  the 
heavenly  messenger  as  her  deliverer.  If  St.  Roderigo  is  the 
type  of  Christian  martyr,  the  Magdalen  is  the  type  of  the 
Christian  penitent.  Together  the  pictures  teach  great  lessons 
on  death,  yet  of  death  to  those  on  whom  earth  has  no  claims. 
The  priest  and  the  recluse  seem  half  removed  from  earth 
already.  How  can  we  realise  such  lessons  ? 

At  Dresden  my  father  was  present  at  a  grand 
Requiem  on  the  anniversary  of  the  late  king's  death. 
He  was  not,  however,  favourably  impressed  by  the 
music  or  the  service.  The  great  orchestral  band  had 
been  transferred  entire  from  the  theatre  to  the  church. 
The  very  choir  was  unnatural,  for  men  took  the  treble 


HARROW  185 

parts — "  a  barbarity  worthy  of  the  seventeenth  century." 
Neither  was  he  pleased  with  the  treasures  of  the  famous 
"  Green  Vault,"  which  he  characterises  as  a  collection 
of  "  precious  trifles,  whose  inestimable  value  cannot 
redeem  them  from  contempt — nay,  rather  increases  it." 
He  describes  these  treasures  at  considerable  length. 
Amongst  them  he  mentions  caskets  "  which  had  first 
held  reliques  and  afterwards  money  (the  new  divinity)," 
a  font  like  a  rose-water  dish,  and  countless  drinking 
vessels,  for  the  treasures  of  the  old  Electors  were 
mainly  composed  of  these.  Finally,  his  party  were 
admitted  into  a  little  room  where  they  beheld  "  the 
very  climax  of  barbarism."  The  room  contained  a 
collection  of  enormous  pearls.  This  is  what  he  has  to 
say  about  the  uses  to  which  they  were  put  :— 

Fancy  that  the  largest  pearl  in  the  world  is  turned  into 
the  body  of  a  hideous  model  of  a  court  dwarf,  that  others 
are  made  to  represent  Punches,  and  figures  of  the  most 
shameless  vulgarity.  "  C'est  assez  curieux  "  was  the  remark 
of  a  French  lady  who  came  out.  She  was  a  gentle  critic. 

One  day,  having  stayed  too  long  at  the  "  Porzellan 
Fabrik "  at  Meissen,  my  father  and  his  companion, 
Mr.  Hensley,  missed  their  return  boat.  They  had  the 
satisfaction  of  seeing  it  well  off  in  mid -stream  when 
they  reached  the  pier  !  What  were  they  to  do  now  ? 
There  was  no  later  boat,  and  they  were  fifteen  miles 
from  Dresden.  There  was  a  railway  somewhere  in  the 
background,  but  probably  no  train.  They  decided  to 
race  the  boat  to  the  next  station.  My  father  tells  the 
story : — 

In  a  minute  we  found  ourselves  running  by  the  water-side, 
as  the  vessel  moved  at  no  very  swift  pace  up  the  stream. 
There  was  a  pathway  along  the  bank,  the  next  station  being 

1 86          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

some  three  or  four  miles  distant.  The  passengers  on  the 
boat  soon  noticed  our  efforts,  and  we  became  a  centre  of 
interest.  I  do  not  know  whether  the  Germans  are  given  to 
betting,  but  I  fancy  that  our  powers  of  endurance  must  have 
been  the  subject  of  many  wagers,  and  the  chances  were 
decidedly  against  us.  Once  our  hope  was  greatly  raised. 
The  vessel  stopped  to  take  up  passengers  on  the  other  side, 
but,  alas  !  it  took  no  heed  of  our  cries.  On  the  vessel  went, 
and  on  we  went,  at  an  equal  pace.  On,  on,  steadily  and 
resolutely,  without  word  spoken,  till  Hensley  trips  up  and  falls 
heavily  down.  In  a  moment  he  is  up  again,  fortunately  only 
with  a  scratched  elbow  and  a  torn  coat,  and  on,  on  we  go 
again.  The  race  really  becomes  serious,  and  we  can  see  that 
the  interest  on  board  is  increasing.  I  noticed  a  com 
passionate  stewardess  watching  almost  every  movement  on 
our  part,  and  I  could  fancy  her  interceding  for  us.  The 
station  was  far,  far  off.  The  heat  was  still  great,  and  we  were 
not  in  training.  Sympathy  for  us  was  not  confined  to  the 
vessel.  An  old  woman  bending  under  a  vast  load  of  sticks 
called  out  to  me  as  I  passed,  "Laufen  sie  nicht,  sie 
werden  ..."  Alas !  the  end  of  her  sentence  was  lost  as  I 
passed  quickly  on,  and  now  quickly  with  good  reason,  for  I 
noticed  that  the  captain  made  signals  which  seemed  to  be 
for  our  encouragement.  On,  on  we  ran,  and  now  the  vessel 
seemed  to  be  nearing  the  shore.  We  saw  some  men  busy 
with  a  long  board,  and  hope  triumphed.  At  a  sudden  bend 
of  the  river  the  water  proved  to  be  deep  close  to  the  bank. 
The  vessel  came  close  in,  the  board  was  put  out,  and  in  half 
a  minute  we  were  steaming  on.  In  a  moment  a  crowd  was 
round  us.  As  we  were  going  to  sit  down  on  deck,  twenty 
voices  cried  out,  "  Nicht  hier,  nicht  hier.  In  die  Kajiite — in 
die  Kajiite,  geschwind."  We  found  ourselves  hurried  away 
most  wisely  into  the  cabin,  where  the  windows  were  instantly 
shut  to  prevent  a  draught,  and  we  were  overwhelmed  with 
good  advice  as  to  how  to  cool  ourselves.  As  Hensley 
looked  rather  pale,  a  most  medical-looking  gentleman  came 
up,  took  his  hand,  and  said  with  an  expression  of  the  most 
profound  sympathy,  "  Wie  fiihlen  sie  sich  ?  "  I  fancied  that 
he  would  prescribe  on  the  spot.  By  degrees  the  whole  ship's 
company  came  in  detachments  to  look  at  us,  with  the  most 

iv  HARROW  187 

kind  feeling,  and  they  appeared  to  admire  equally  the  captain's 
goodness  in  stopping  and  our  "  pluck  " — pardon  the  word — 
in  going  on.  In  about  an  hour  or  so  we  were  moderately 
cool,  and  an  admirable  cup — i.e.  five  cups — of  tea  removed 
all  sense  of  fatigue.  Apart  from  the  good  effect  of  the  excite 
ment,  I  really  felt  drawn  to  everybody  by  their  real  kindness. 

Having  concluded  their  German  lessons  at  Dresden, 
the  two  friends  enjoyed  some  further  travels.  They 
proceeded  to  invade  Bohemia  : — 

PRAGUE,  29^  August  1858. 

We  have,  you  see,  reached  Prague,  the  final  limit  of  our 
wanderings.  .  .  .  We  reached  the  gates  of  the  fortress  after  a 
good  climb  with  only  a  little  rain.  But  after  we  had  obtained 
our  tickets  of  admission  and  were  joined  by  the  guide,  the 
rain  fell  in  torrents.  The  time  allowed  for  a  visit  is  only  an 
hour  and  a  half.  We  asked  our  guide  whether  we  could  wait 
a  little,  as  we  could,  of  course,  see  nothing.  He  said  that  we 
might  wait  in  the  restauration,  and  he  would  inform  the 
Commandant  of  the  fact.  We  accepted  the  arrangement 
gladly,  and  added  a  cup  of  coffee  to  our  hasty  breakfast. 
Still  things  looked  desperate.  When  the  guide  came  back  I 
heard  him  talking  to  our  landlady,  and  caught  the  words 
"schrecklich,"  "  Englander,"  "  nichts  sehen,"  from  which  I 
gathered  that  he  supposed  that  none  but  English  would 
venture  up  in  such  horrible  weather  when  nothing  could  be 
seen.  We  watched  the  clouds  anxiously,  and  welcomed  some 
breaks  in  them.  They  now  began  to  drift  more  rapidly,  and 
roll  and  rise  on  all  sides.  The  rain  ceased,  and  I  thought 
that  we  might  venture  out.  The  view  was  grand.  Black 
heavy  masses  of  cloud  rested  on  the  heights,  but  the  fore 
ground  was  bright  and  clear.  Light  mists  swept  over  the 
dark  pine  woods,  and  along  the  valleys.  Gleams  of  blue  sky 
appeared  through  openings  in  the  clouds.  In  the  far  distance 
a  reach  of  the  Elbe  glittered  in  the  sunshine.  The  view 
became  more  and  more  beautiful  every  minute,  ever  changing 
as  the  showers  swept  by,  and  sometimes  over,  us.  The 
fortress  itself  is  very  interesting.  It  has  rarely  been  besieged 

1 88          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

and  never  been  taken,  and  is  the  hiding-place  of  the  Dresden 
treasures  in  time  of  war.  In  1849  all  was  conveyed  here, 
and  the  king  himself  with  the  royal  family  lived  in  its  shelter 
for  two  months.  ...  A  walk  leads  all  round  the  edge  of  the 
rock  which  the  fortress  encloses,  and,  as  you  may  fancy,  the 
interest  is  ever  kept  awake  by  the  fresh  combinations  of  wood 
and  rock.  The  sunshine  literally  followed.  The  clouds 
rolled  over  what  we  had  seen  and  away  from 'what  we  wished 
to  see.  The  stormy  sky — for  the  clouds  were  high — added, 
in  fact,  immensely  to  the  effects,  and  we  were  the  more 
pleased  as  we  had  expected  to  see  nothing.  .  .  .  The  last 
wonder  of  the  fortress  is  the  well,  which  is  600  ells  deep. 
Some  water  was  poured  in  and  it  was  seventeen  seconds  before 
the  sound  of  its  fall  came  back.  We  listened  and  listened, 
and  thought  we  must  have  failed  to  notice  it,  when  at  last 
came  the  sharp  rattling  of  the  little  stream.  Afterwards  four 
lights  were  lowered  with  a  little  barrel,  and  we  watched  them 
sink  till  they  became  like  a  star,  and  till  one's  head  was  dizzy 
with  looking.  ...  I  wish  that  I  could  by  any  device  give 
you  half  the  pleasure  which  I  felt  in  looking  at  the  cliff 
scenery  of  the  Elbe.  I  should  feel  really  unhappy  if  I  did 
not  trust  that  you  would  one  day  see  it.  It  is  not  too  vast 
for  pleasure,  but  is  like  a  small  cabinet  of  exquisite  pictures, 
which  you  can  enjoy  at  once  without  the  long  study  and 
preparation  which  is  needful  for  the  understanding  of  greater 
works.  Yet  the  scenery  is  neither  little  nor  on  a  small  scale, 
but  its  character  is  picturesqueness  of  the  highest  order,  and 
exquisite  colour,  rather  than  majesty.  To  me  the  pleasure 
was  wholly  a  new  one.  No  comparisons  could  suggest  them 
selves,  and  only  another  image  was  added  to  the  stores  with 
which  memory  is  already  charged.  ...  On  our  way  back  we 
went  into  another  church,  from  which  we  heard  the  sound  of 
voices.  It  was  crowded  and  mass  was  being  celebrated. 
Every  one  seemed  to  join  in  the  chant,  and  I  can  only  liken 
the  effect  to  that  which  you  remember  at  Havre  and  Amiens. 
Why  cannot  we  have  the  same  thing  in  our  Church  ?  It  makes 
me  almost  feel  angry  to  hear  sounds  so  deeply  moving, 
which  ought  also  to  express  our  feelings,  and  yet  know  that 
we  must  remain  silent  when  we  should  in  turn  raise  full 
swelling  hymns.  The  same  sort  of  feeling  came  over  me 


HARROW  189 

also  yesterday  when  I  saw  that  the  Pope  had  at  once  directed 
two  bishops,  one  with  twenty  missionaries,  to  proceed  at  once 
to  China  in  consequence  of  the  new  treaty.  We  shall  barely 
follow  with  two  or  three  perhaps.  What  marvellous  power 
the  organisation  of  the  Roman  Church  gives  to  its  leaders, 
and  is  it  wrong  ?  Oh  !  Marie,  how  often  I  wonder  what  we 
do  for  our  religion.  Granted  that  we  are  different  from  what 
we  should  be  if  we  were  not  Christians,  is  it  so  clear  that  our 
relations  to  others  would  be  changed  ?  We  stand  and  watch 
the  great  stream  roll  by,  we  know  not  whither,  we  ask  not 
whither.  Soul  after  soul  passes  us,  and  we  make  no  attempt 
to  hold  communion  with  it.  We  bear  no  open  witness : 
perhaps  we  doubt  ourselves.  Can  it  not  be  otherwise? 
That  full  hymn  this  morning  raised  all  these  old  thoughts, 
and  how  shall  we  answer  them  ?  How,  Marie  ?  If  our 
thoughts  could  only  find  a  natural  utterance,  and  a  simple 
active  energy !  There  is  a  quakerism  of  temper  as  well  as  a 
quakerism  of  dress,  I  fancy ;  and  I  am  a  Quaker  in  feeling,  I 
fancy,  yet  ready  to  adopt — not  the  Quaker's  velvet  collar,  but 
a  sober  every-day  dress  if  I  can  find  it.  See,  Marie,  a  new 
change  on  Carlyle's  "clothes."  Now  I  must  go  down  to  tea. 

In  following  the  course  of  my  father's  life  at  Harrow, 
as  preserved  in  his  diaries  and  letters,  one  is  almost 
tempted  to  forget  that  during  those  eighteen  years  he 
was  a  strenuous  schoolmaster,  giving  always  his  best 
energies  to  his  immediate  duties.  His  wonderful  literary 
activity,  his  interesting  holiday  excursions,  his  continual 
yearning  towards  Cambridge,  come  so  prominently 
before  one,  and  their  present  evidences  are  so  manifest, 
that  one  overlooks  the  fact  that  they  were  a  com 
paratively  small  part  of  his  Harrow  life.  We  know 
his  books  ;  we  know  his  sketches,  which  enshrine  the 
memories  of  his  holidays  ;  we  know  that  Cambridge 
was  the  natural  goal  he  reached  ;  and  so  we  minimise 
his  Harrow  work.  He  is  well  known  to  many  by  his 
books  ;  but  these  were  the  product  of  what  one  may 

1 9o          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

call  his  overtime  work,  and  of  his  holiday  labours.  His 
personal  influence  was  something  far  beyond.  His 
industry,  and  capacity  for  work  were  so  extraordinary 
that  he  was  able,  while  discharging  to  the  uttermost 
and  extending  his  regular  school  duties,  to  execute 
other  enduring  work.  But  during  the  long  years  of 
his  Harrow  life  he  was  heart  and  soul  a  Harrow 
master :  his  best  was  continuously  given  to  his  boys, 
and  he  found  time  to  keep  up  correspondence  with 
many  of  them  after  they  had  left  the  school. 

Considerations  such  as  these  compel  me  to  pause, 
as  it  were,  in  mid  career  and  view  my  father  simply 
as  the  schoolmaster.  He  has  himself  described  the 
teacher's  influence  and  office  ;  and  strove  in  his  own 
work  to  realise  the  high  conception  which  he  had 
formed.  This  is  what  he  says : — 

The  frank  questioning,  the  interchange  of  thought,  the 
influence  of  personal  enthusiasm,  the  inspiring  power  of  living 
words,  which  come  in  the  free  intercourse  of  the  class-room, 
give  a  force  and  a  meaning  to  facts  and  theories  which  the 
book  cannot  convey.  It  is  spiritual.  The  end  of  the  teacher 
whose  work  we  strive  to  follow  is  not  fixed  by  the  communica 
tion  of  his  special  lesson.  He  will  seek,  indeed,  to  do  this 
as  perfectly  as  possible,  but  he  will  at  the  same  time  suggest 
the  vast  fields  which  lie  unexplored  even  in  his  own  depart 
ment ;  he  will  make  clear  the  limitations  and  assumptions 
under  which  his  results  are  obtained ;  he  will  add,  if  I  may 
so  express  the  truth,  the  symbol  of  infinity  to  the  provisional 
statements  which  represent  the  actual  attainments  of  man ; 
he  will  use  the  most  effective  technical  education  as  the 
vehicle  of  wider  culture.  Literature,  art,  and  science  will  be 
for  him  partial  revelations  of  a  boundless  life,  and  it  will  be 
his  object  to  make  the  life  felt  through  the  least  part  with 
which  he  deals. 

How  far  he  succeeded  in  his  aim  it  is  for  his  pupils 

iv  HARROW  191 

to  say.  There  are  many  old  Harrow  boys  who  felt  the 
"  wonderful  magnetism  "  of  his  strong  personality,  and 
gratefully  acknowledge  what  they  owe  to  him.  Let 
some  of  them  therefore  bear  their  testimony. 

Mr.  C.  B.  Heberden,  Principal  of  Brasenose  College, 
writes  : — 

When  I  look  back  on  Mr.  Westcott's  work  at  Harrow 
after  an  interval  of  thirty-five  years,  it  seems  to  me  that  what 
was  especially  characteristic  of  his  teaching  was  the  combina 
tion  of  the  minutest  accuracy  in  detail  with  width  of  learning 
and  broad  generalisations.  For  example,  he  insisted  rigidly 
on  the  importance  of  bringing  out  the  exact  significance  of 
a  tense  or  a  particle,  while  at  the  same  time  he  encouraged 
us,  so  far  as  possible,  to  read  large  portions  of  classical 
authors.  Many  must  remember  with  pleasure  how  he  made 
us  read  plays  of  Euripides  rapidly  with  him  in  his  study. 
He  tried  to  stimulate  us  to  think  for  ourselves.  I  remember 
his  saying  once  that  he  would  gladly  teach  us  what  was 
wrong,  if  he  could  only  be  sure  that  we  should  discover  the 
mistake  and  find  out  what  was  right.  He-  used  to  draw  up 
outlines  of  thought  on  all  manner  of  subjects,  often  quite 
outside  the  ordinary  school  curriculum,  tracing,  for  example, 
the  general  headings  under  which  long  periods  of  history 
might  be  grouped,  and  in  this  way  he  gave  us  many 
suggestions  for  writing  essays,  for  which  at  that  time  very 
little  was  done  in  school  teaching. 

Mr.  Westcott  was  one  of  the  first  of  the  Harrow  masters 
to  recognise  the  importance  of  music  in  school  life,  and  thus 
did  much  to  promote  the  wonderful  work  accomplished  by 
Mr.  Farmer  at  Harrow  in  the  course  of  the  sixties.  Unless 
I  am  mistaken,  Mr.  Westcott's  house  was  the  first  to  adopt 
house-singing,  and  "lo  triumphe,"  written  by  him  at  Mr. 
Farmer's  request,  was  the  first  of  the  Harrow  school-songs. 

His  sermons  in  the  school  chapel  were  unique ;  delivered 
very  quietly  and  without  a  trace  of  anything  approaching  to 
rhetoric,  not  easy  for  boys  to  follow  in  consequence  of  the 
amount  of  thought  put  into  them  and  the  conciseness  of  the 
language  in  which  it  was  expressed,  but  all  the  more  weighty 

192          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

and  impressive.  Apart  from  the  more  direct  religious  influence 
in  his  sermons  and  in  his  preparation  of  candidates  for 
confirmation,  all  his  teaching  was  permeated  by  a  sense  of 
religion.  Thus  he  would  dwell  on  subjects  such  as  the 
myths  of  Plato,  the  poetry  of  ^Eschylus  and  Browning  (for 
whom  he  had  a  great  admiration),  and  on  some  points  in  the 
philosophy  of  Comte,  with  special  reference  to  the  religious 
ideas  which  they  embodied.  His  mind  was  always  fixed  on 
great  principles,  and  I  believe  that  this  gave  a  peculiar  value 
to  his  teaching,  however  much  his  thoughts  may  have  some 
times  been  beyond  our  comprehension. 

Mr.  T.  G.  Rooper,  one  of  H.M.'s  Inspectors  of 
Schools,  writes  : — 

As  might  be  expected,  Dr.  Westcott's  influence  on  many 
of  the  boys  in  the  school  was  deep  and  lasting.  This  was 
due  not  only  to  his  acknowledged  pre-eminence  in  learning, 
but  even  more  to  his  sympathy,  to  his  good-nature,  and  above 
all,  to  his  gentleness  and  unlimited  kindness. 

It  was  not  to  the  older  boys  alone,  or  those  in  his  own 
house  and  pupil-room,  that  he  was  ready  to  give  advice  and 
assistance.  As  a'  new  boy  I  well  remember  that  he  invited 
me  to  take  a  botanical  walk  with  him  because  he  had  heard 
from  one  of  his  pupils  that  I  was  fond  of  collecting  flowers. 
I  have  not  forgotten  the  suggestions  which  he  made  con 
cerning  the  collection  of  wild-flowers  on  that  sunny  afternoon, 
but  I  recall  even  more  clearly  his  remark  on  our  return : 
"  After  a  long  walk  there  is  nothing  I  find  so  refreshing  as 
a  cup  of  tea.  Will  you  join  Mrs.  Westcott  and  me  at  six 
o'clock  ?  " 

Neither  can  I  forget  his  friendly  and  genial  talk  during 
the  social  meal.  What  a  rebuke  to  pert  confidence  and 
crude  self-assertion  was  the  Doctor's  tentative  treatment  of 
large  questions,  his  habit  of  inquiring  in  a  humble  spirit,  his 
readiness  to  gather  information  even  from  a  child  !  What 
a  valuable  lesson  for  positive  puppyhood  when  he  who  was  so 
well  qualified  to  pronounce  judgment  preferred  rather  to  ask 
questions,  to  hesitate,  and  to  encourage  further  research  ! 


HARROW  193 

On  another  occasion  he  arranged  to  take  a  party  of  boys 
to  St.  Alban's  Abbey,  then  unrestored.  He  showed  how  to 
study  details  of  mouldings,  and  to  make  drawings  of  them  with 
the  view  of  distinguishing  different  stages  of  Gothic  archi 
tecture  ;  and  some  of  the  party  date  their  interest  in  archi 
tectural  studies  from  that  day. 

But  it  was  not  only  in  expeditions  such  as  these  that  he 
gained  the  respect  and  affection  of  the  boys ;  he  frequently 
took  part  in  games  of  football,  and  amid  winter  wind  and 
rain  contended  with  the  most  active. 

The  scholars  in  the  Sixth  Form  received  special  help  and 
attention.  He  would  urge  them  to  study  their  Euripides  or 
their  Sophocles  in  copious  draughts.  He  held  classes  in 
which  boys,  under  his  guidance,  read  rapidly  through  a  whole 
play  before  making  a  minute  study  of  details.  When  the 
time  came  for  the  study  of  detail  he  would  teach  the  class 
to  exercise  their  constructive  faculty.  For  example,  if  an 
instance  occurred  of  "the  attraction  of  the  relative"  in  a 
Greek  author,  he  would  help  the  boys  to  collect  examples  of 
all  the  variations  of  this  construction,  and  lead  them  to  study 
the  researches  of  eminent  scholars  on  the  point.  If  any  pupil 
of  his  failed  to  learn  how  to  collect,  compare,  contrast,  and 
classify  facts,  with  the  view  of  arriving  at  general  principles,  it 
was  the  fault  of  the  scholar  and  not  of  the  master. 

In  the  school  pulpit  Dr.  Westcott's  sermons  were  a  source 
of  inspiration  to  many.  His  turn  to  preach  was  looked 
forward  to  by  the  whole  school  with  special  interest.  The 
younger  boys  were  attracted  by  his  personality;  the  older 
boys  expected  to  be  "set  on  thinking,"  and  were  never 
disappointed.  He  certainly  made  no  attempt  to  preach 
down  to  the  level  of  a  juvenile  audience,  but  without  any 
such  condescension  he  managed  to  direct  their  thoughts 
much  as  he  wished  them  to  be  directed. 
<  His  exact  knowledge  as  a  classical  scholar,  combined  with 
an  unusual  width  of  interest  in  numerous  other  branches  of 
learning,  enabled  him  to  encourage  boys  in  all  sorts  of 
pursuits.  "German  now,"  he  once  remarked,  "you  should 
learn  that  language.  You  can  teach  yourselves  as  I  did.  I 
got  a  copy  of  the  Deutsches  Balladenbuch  and  worked  at  that 
to  commence  with." 

VOL.  I  O 

194          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

"On  questions  of  theology,"  he  remarked,  "hesitate  to 
pronounce  opinions  before  you  are  thirty  years  of  age." 

Such  was  Dr.  Westcott  as  I  remember  him  at  Harrow — 
guiding  us  in  our  studies,  inspiring  us  with  ideas,  elevating 
us  through  his  preaching,  joining  in  our  amusements,  gravely 
taking  part  in  the  school  Debating  Society,  writing  school 
songs,  and  ever  ready  to  help  all  and  sundry  in  any  way  he 
could.  Many  of  his  old  pupils  look  back  to  his  work  as  one 
of  the  chiefest  of  the  good  influences  of  a  great  public  school, 
and  many  still  linger  over  his  memory  with  gratitude  and 

Bishop  Gore  writes  :— 

Through  some  accident,  the  nature  of  which  I  cannot 
remember,  I  once  had  to  go  to  your  father  to  ask  for  an 
order  for  Poppo's  Thucydides.  On  that  occasion  he  almost 
shivered,  as  was  his  way,  at  the  idea  of  a  boy  beginning  so 
early  the  use  of  a  commentary,  and  he  took  down  his  own 
Becker's  text  and  assured  me  that  he  had  nothing  but  the 
bare  text  till  he  was,  I  think  he  said,  twenty-three.  Then 
he  explained  to  me  how  fatal  was  the  premature  use  of 

A  sermon  of  his,  which  doubtless  you  have  got,  on  the 
"Disciplined  Life,"  made  a  profound  impression  on  some 
other  boys  and  on  me.1  Just  before  he  left  I  remember  a 
correspondence  of  his  with  the  Headmaster  advocating  the 
institution  of  the  weekly  Eucharist  in  the  school  chapel,  in 
which  I  was  interested,  as,  with  some  other  boys,  I  had  the 
habit  of  going  on  Sunday  mornings  to  the  parish  church 
when  there  was  no  Communion  in  the  chapel.  I  remember 
an  examination  paper  of  his  in  the  New  Testament,  which 
I  have  lost,  but  which  I  came  upon  a  few  years  ago,  and 
which  impressed  me  with  a  sense  of  the  very  high  standard 
he  set  for  the  instruction  of  boys  in  the  New  Testament.  It 
might  have  been  set  to-day  for  an  honour  theology  examina 
tion  at  either  University. 

1  This  sermon,  originally  printed  for  private  circulation,  is  contained  in 
Words  of  Faith  and  Hope. 

iv  HARROW  195 

Sir  W.  H.  B.  ffolkes,  Bart.,  writes  : — 

I  was  with  your  father  nearly  seven  years,  being  with  him 
in  a  small  house  as  well  as  in  the  larger  house,  so  that  I  had 
a  more  thorough  knowledge  of  his  merits  from  a  schoolboy's 
point  of  view  than  others  who  were  with  him  for  a  shorter 

I  was  sent  to  Harrow  far  too  young,  being  a  little  boy  of 
little  more  than  twelve.  From  the  moment  I  entered  Mr. 
Westcott's  house  as  the  youngest  boy  in  the  school  till  I  left 
Harrow  in  1866,  I  received  nothing  but  the  greatest  kindness 
from  him.  He  always  treated  us  as  gentlemen,  and  our  word 
once  given  to  him  was  quite  enough,  whatever  others  might 
say.  In  the  small  house  there  were  only  about  eight  of  us, 
and  we  were  in  constant  touch  with  him,  so  that  he  did  an 
immense  amount  of  good  to  us  all. 

He  would  take  us  out  for  walks,  and  show  us  every  flower 
and  fern  that  grew  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Harrow.  His 
general  knowledge  was  extraordinary,  and  he  could  instruct 
us  on  almost  any  subject.  I  owe  him  a  great  debt  for  such 
knowledge  of  natural  history  and  other  subjects  of  general 
knowledge  as  I  acquired  from  him. 

Mr.  Westcott  was  too  good  to  be  a  schoolmaster.  He  had 
not  an  atom  of  the  prig  about  him,  and  I  pity  the  boy  who 
would  have  dared  to  tell  him  a  lie. 

When  we  went  into  the  big  house  opposite  the  old  pump, 
we  found  ourselves  among  thirty -six  boys,  not  particularly 
distinguished  either  in  games  or  school  work.  Well,  Mr. 
Westcott  worked  this  house  up  until  it  became  the  clever 
house  in  the  school,  with  more  boys  in  the  sixth  than  any 
other,  and  in  consequence  there  was  a  great  deficiency  of  fags. 
In  games,  too,  we  improved  greatly.  He  took  an  interest 
in  everything  that  we  did — our  work,  play,  and  hobbies. 
(Even  in  such  a  matter  as  stamps  his  knowledge  was  surprising. 
He  rarely  punished  us ;  perhaps  he  ought  to  have  done  so 
more  frequently,  but  he  preferred  to  give  a  kind  admonition, 
and  whoever  received  an  admonition,  if  he  was  a  gentleman, 
never  required  another  for  a  similar  offence.  He  took  the 
Sixth  Form  in  the  Headmaster's  absence,  but  I  do  not  think 
he  was  a  good  Form  master.  He  was  too  great  a  scholar  for 

196         LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

that.  I  was  told  that  once  when  he  was  taking  the  Sixth  in 
Aristophanes  he  was  so  taken  with  a  passage  that  he  went  on 
reading,  and  forgot  all  about  the  Form.  But  as  a  composition 
master  for  the  Sixth  he  was  first-rate. 

I  have  always  felt  the  deepest  affection  for  your  father.  I 
owe  so  much  to  his  kindness  and  advice,  though  I  was  one  of 
his  less  brilliant  pupils.  One  day,  when  Mr.  Westcott  was  in 
pupil -room  correcting  a  small  boy's  Latin  verses,  a  big  boy 
shot  a  hard  paper  pellet  at  the  little  fellow.  He  missed  him, 
however,  and  hit  Mr.  Westcott  a  very  severe  blow  on  the 
cheek.  He  flushed,  and  the  veins  on  his  forehead  stood  out, 
as  they  always  did  when  he  was  moved.  "  Who  did  that  ?  " 
he  said,  and  the  culprit  at  once  jumped  up  and  said,  "  I  did, 
sir,  and  I  am  very  sorry."  Mr.  Westcott  said,  "A  very  good 
shot.  If  you  had  missed  me  I  should  have  set  you  a  Georgic." 
That  was  your  father  all  over.  He  would  not  have  dreamed 
of  punishing  under  the  circumstances,  as  it  would  seem  as  if 
he  had  lost  his  temper.  In  justice  to  the  offender,  I  should 
add  that  he  waited  for  Mr.  Westcott  after  school,  and  said 
how  sorry  he  was,  and  that  he  had  not  intended  the  act. 

One  morning  I  was  asked  by  my  Form  master  for  200 
lines — a  punishment  which  he  had  not  set  me,  but  the  boy 
next  to  me.  Schoolboy  honour,  of  course,  prevented  me 
from  explaining  the  case.  I  said  that  I  had  not  written  the 
lines  because  they  had  not  been  set  me.  The  master  accord 
ingly  doubled  my  unset  punishment.  I  had  to  go  to  your 
father  to  get  the  punishment  paper.  He  said,  "My  dear 
ffolkes,  you  are  always  getting  into  trouble.  What  have  you 
done  now  ? "  I  explained  matters  to  him,  and  he  believed 
me,  and  wrote  to  my  Form  master,  but  without  success!  He 
promised  to  remit  me  400  lines  on  his  own  account  when  I 
got  into  trouble  with  him,  but  I  must  say  that  except  for  his 
sympathy  I  was  no  better  off,  for  he  never  set  me  a  punish 
ment  of  the  sort. 

The  Rev.  G.   H.   Kendall,  Headmaster  of  Charter 
house,  says : l — 

1  Sermon  preached  before  the  University  of  Cambridge,  3rd  November 

iv  HARROW  197 

At  Harrow,  for  eighteen  years,  his  work — and  he,  I  am 
sure,  would  never  have  miscalled  it  drudgery — lay  in  the 
correction  of  Sixth  Form  composition.  Perhaps  the  most 
impressive  single  lesson  I  recall  at  school  was  his  correction  of 
a  boyish  essay  on  Robert  Browning's  "Grammarian's  Funeral." 
The  conception  of  the  poet  that  he  most  cherished  was  that 
of  one  "who  sees  the  infinite  in  things,"  and  this  poem 
possessed  for  him  the  special  fascination  of  dramatising  self- 
sacrifice,  faith,  consecration,  in  that  very  field  of  work,  and 
even  in  that  unseen  and  highly  specialised  corner  of  it,  to 
which,  imbued  with  Cambridge  traditions,  he  dedicated  so 
much  of  his  own  powers.  All  work — yes,  that  of  recondite 
and  solitary  erudition — admits  of  consecration  \  and  no  con 
secrated  work  can  possibly  be  wasted.  The  student's  toil 
may,  in  time,  seem  isolated  or  self-centred ;  but  in  eternity  it 
finds  its  meaning — 

Earn  the  means  first — God  surely  will  contrive 

Use  for  our  earning. 
Others  mistrust  and  say,  "  But  time  escapes ! 

Live  now  or  never !  " 
He  said,  "  What's  time  ?  Leave  now  for  dogs  and  apes ! 

Man  has  for  ever ! " 

It  is  not  uttered  words,  but  the  impress  of  manner,  of 
conviction,  that  I  recall.  That  at  least  abode  with  me.  The 
first  prize  I  chose  at  Cambridge  was  an  edition  of  Browning's 
poems  ;  and  to  this  day,  as  I  read  or  rehearse  stray  melodies 
from  that  poem,  I  catch  the  echo  of  the  teacher's  words  in 
my  own  life  still  passing  into  the  eternal. 

Sir  C.  Dalrymple,  Bart,  M.P.,  writes  : l — 

Through  the  mist  of  years  I  recall  my  revered  tutor  as  a 
Harrow  Master  in  the  fifties.  A  writer  in  The  Pilot  has  lately 
said  that  Westcott  was  "  noticeable  in  a  society  dominated  by 
convention  and  commonplace."  Who  would  suppose  that  in 
the  society  so  contemned  were  included  (to  mention  but  a 
few)  Dr.  Vaughan  and  his  brother,  Pears,  Rendall,  Bradby, 

1  In  The  Harrovian. 

198          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

Farrar,  John  Smith  ?  But  no  doubt  there  was  an  element  of 
mystery  about  Westcott  in  those  remote  days.  It  was,  I 
believe,  the  mystery  of  a  great  reputation,  of  which  we  boys 
knew  but  little,  though  we  were  conscious  of  it.  He  was  not 
widely  known  at  Harrow  in  those  earlier  years,  for  he  was 
shy,  reserved,  sensitive,  a  laborious  student.  Nor  do  I  think 
that  he  ever  largely  affected  the  public  life  of  the  School, 
though  he  left  marks  deep  and  ineffaceable  on  pupils  who 
knew  him  well.  It  is  extraordinary  to  realise  that  in  1853 
he  was  only  thirty,  for  he  seemed  to  us  full  of  learning  (as 
indeed  he  was)  and  weighted  with  care.  He  took  the  Sixth 
Form  every  now  and  then,  generally  at  Fourth  School,  and 
impressed  us  all  with  his  earnest  interest  in  the  lesson.  I 
fear  that  the  Sixth  Form  took  some  liberties  with  him,  and 
there  was  occasional  disturbance,  which  would  have  been 
impossible  in  the  presence  of  the  Headmaster.  Only  rarely 
— if  Dr.  Vaughan  was  preaching  in  London — did  Westcott 
take  the  Sunday  afternoon  lesson,  and  in  his  hands  it  had 
special  interest.  He  seemed  to  have  drunk  in  the  spirit  of 
St.  Paul  as  no  one  else  ever  did. 

He  took  his  turn  of  preaching  in  Chapel,  but  he  dreaded 
and  disliked  the  duty,  and  he  was  quite  inaudible  to  many  of 
the  boys.  We  knew  all  the  same  that  his  were  no  common 
sermons.  It  has  been  truly  said  "  the  sentences  were  closely 
packed  with  meaning,  and  the  meaning  was  not  always  easy." 
To  his  own  pupils,  or  to  Sixth  Form  fellows  who  went  to  him 
with  composition,  the  visits  to  his  beautiful  study  at  The 
Butts,  where  he  lived  for  some  years,  were  a  great  delight,  and 
they  acted  on  us  like  a  tonic. 

We  felt,  I  think,  that  to  bring  poor  work  to  him  was 
specially  inappropriate,  and  that  we  must  give  him  of  our  best 
whatever  it  might  be.  The  pains  that  he  took ;  the  encour 
agement  that  he  gave  to  poor  efforts ;  the  high  ideal  that  he 
set  before  us — these  can  readily  be  recalled.  Then  he  would 
pass  for  a  little  time  to  pleasant  talk,  and  if  any  reference  to 
foreign  travel  recurred  he  would  say,  "You  remember  such  a 
cathedral  and  the  carving  at  the  head  of  the  columns,"  and 
he  would  hastily  draw,  sometimes  at  the  corner  of  one's  poor 
exercise,  a  lovely  bit  of  carved  foliage — there  is  no  doubt  that 
his  knowledge  of  architecture  was  wide  and  accurate — and 

iv  HARROW  199 

one  went  away  refreshed  and  braced  from  contact  alike  with 
his  cultivation  and  his  sympathy.  He  was  always  warmly 
interested  in  those  who  were  "  going  up  to  Trinity."  As  we 
had  been  accustomed  to  value  sermons  in  Harrow  Chapel,  I 
asked  him  as  to  preachers  at  Cambridge,  and  received  the 
instant  reply,  "  You  can  never  go  wrong  with  Harvey  Good 
win  "  (afterwards  Dean  of  Ely  and  Bishop  of  Carlisle).  His 
parting  gift,  "In  affectionate  remembrance  of  Brooke  F. 
Westcott,"  was  a  Novum  Testamentum  tetraglotton,  by  Theile 
and  Stier,  beautifully  bound  (it  is  before  me  as  I  write),  and 
the  date  of  the  gift  is  26th  July  1858. 

Sir  Charles  Dalrymple  has  also  written  a  few  words 
about  some  of  my  father's  Harrow  pupils,  mentioning 
specially  Mr.  R.  A.  Earle,  at  one  time  Disraeli's  secre 
tary  ;  and  Mr.  Graham  Murray,  M.P.,  Lord-Lieutenant 
of  Bute,  and  Lord  Advocate  of  Scotland,  as  being  pupils 
of  whose  abilities  my  father  had  a  high  opinion.  Further 
he  says : — 

One  specially  interesting  pupil,  also  a  boarder  in  Mr. 
Westcott's  house,  the  late  Marquess  of  Bute,  through  many 
years,  and  up  to  the  time  of  his  death,  valued  the  friendship 
of  his  old  tutor. 

Year  after  year  it  was  the  custom  of  Lord  Bute,  who  had 
palms  in  his  chapel  that  had  been  blessed,  to  send  one  of 
them  on  Palm  Sunday  to  his  old  tutor.  After  he  had  had  a 
paralytic  stroke  in  the  spring  of  1900,  Lord  Bute  lay  on  Palm 
Sunday  in  a  torpid  condition,  while  those  around  him  believed 
that  he  was  noticing  and  caring  for  nothing.  To  a  friend 
who  was  beside  him  he  quite  suddenly  turned  and  said  in  a 
low  voice,  "  Will  you  see  that  the  Bishop  of  Durham  gets  his 
palm  ?  " 

The  following  letter  to  Mr.  Benson,  who  was  at  the 
time  a  master  at  Rugby,  will  serve  to  reveal  in  part  the 
sort  of  spirit  in  which  my  father  engaged  in  his  school 
work  : — 


200          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

HARROW,  24/7*  May  1860. 

My  dear  Benson — Will  you  look  at  the  enclosed  scheme  ? 
I  cannot  but  hope  that  it  will  have  your  support,  and  that  it 
may  prove  a  great  comfort  to  us  in  our  common  work. — Ever 
yours  affectionately,  BROOKE  F.  WESTCOTT. 


It  has  seemed  to  some  who  are  engaged  in  school  work 
that  they  might  derive  additional  strength  to  meet  their  many 
difficulties  from  the  practice  of  common  and  stated  prayer 
bearing  upon  the  wants  and  trials  of  school  life.  The  approach 
ing  season  of  Whitsuntide  offers  a  peculiar  promise  for  the 
commencement  of  such  prayer,  which  might  in  the  first 
instance  be  made  with  a  view  to  a  blessing  upon  the  whole 
scheme  of  sympathetic  union. 

Even  humanly  speaking,  the  consciousness  of  sympathy, 
as  it  appears,  would  prove  a  motive  and  a  help  to  persever 

It  is  proposed — 

(1)  To  have  fixed  times  for  common  prayer,  as — 

(a)  The  great  Communion  Festivals. 

(/>)  Some  one  day  in  each  week  (as  Friday). 

(2)  To  have  (if  possible)  a  unity  in  the  subjects  of  prayer, 

as — 

(a)  For  the  gift  of  the  Holy  Ghost  in  our  work 

at  Whitsuntide,  etc. 

(b)  By  turning  our  thoughts  to  special  temptations, 

as  in  Lent. 

(3)  To  seek  to  support  one  another  (if  it  may  seem  desir 

able)  by  prayer  in  times  of  peculiar  trial. 

If  you  are  inclined  to  join  in  carrying  out  such  a  scheme, 
would  you  kindly  let  me  know  ?  And  I  should  feel  greatly 
obliged  by  any  suggestions  as  to  the  details  of  the  plan. 

In  the  year  1857,  when  the  University  of  Cam 
bridge  was  becoming  agitated  in  the  matter  of  reform, 


HARROW  201 

my  father,  whose  interest  in  his  own  College  was  still 
very  keen,  promoted  a  private  "  Protest "  against  some 
features  in  the  proposed  alterations  affecting  Trinity 
College.  What  became  of  this  "  Protest "  I  am  unable 
to  say,  but  several  copies  bearing  the  signatures  of 
former  Fellows  of  Trinity  of  about  my  father's  standing 
remain  among  his  letters.  The  document  is  marked 
"  Private  "  and  is  as  follows  : — 

We,  the  undersigned,  late  Fellows  of  Trinity  College, 
Cambridge,  beg  respectfully  to  submit  to  the  Cambridge 
University  Commissioners  our  opinion  on  certain  points 
affecting  the  Constitution  of  that  Foundation,  to  which  we 
understand  that  their  attention  is  directed.  We  cannot  but 
entertain  a  warm  and  lively  interest  in  the  welfare  of  our 
College,  having  within  a  comparatively  recent  period  partaken 
largely  of  its  benefits,  and  we  think  that  our  removal  from  the 
immediate  influences  of  the  University  enables  us  to  form  an 
opinion  peculiarly  free  from  the  suspicion  of  local  prejudice 
or  partiality. 

We  should  gladly  welcome  any  changes  which  would 
increase  the  efficiency  of  the  College  Tuition  and  improve 
the  distribution  of  the  College  Patronage,  but  we  are  con 
vinced  that  such  reforms  may  be  successfully  carried  out 
without  disturbing  the  essential  principles  of  the  present 

We  believe  that  the  important  services  which  Trinity 
College  has  rendered  to  education  and  literature  are  mainly 
due  to  the  existing  system  of  the  Scholarship  and  Fellowship 
election  and  tenure.  We  therefore  earnestly  deprecate — (i) 
the  general  opening  of  the  Scholarships  and  Fellowships  to 
University  competition  ;  and  (2)  the  absolute  limitation  of 
the  tenure  of  Fellowships  to  a  term  of  years. 

We  are  persuaded  that  these  measures  would  have  a 
strong  tendency  to  destroy  both  the  corporate  character  of 
the  College  and  also  those  College  sympathies  and  social 
ties  which  are  among  the  most  valuable  elements  of  a 
Cambridge  education;  to  distract  the  attention  of  students 
by  a  variety  of  competitive  examinations,  and  divert  them 

202          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

from  a  liberal  and  comprehensive  course  of  reading ;  to 
diminish  the  value  of  Fellowships,  considered  as  stimulants 
to  University  education,  by  depriving  them  of  that  per 
manence  as  a  possible  provision  for  life  which  now  forms 
their  chief  attraction  ;  and  to  discourage  the  free  cultivation 
of  any  purely  literary  or  scientific  studies  by  imposing  upon 
all  Fellows  the  necessity  of  immediately  entering  upon  some 
remunerative  occupation. 

The  signatories  include  Alfred  Barry,  E.  W.  Benson, 
A.  Ellis,  George  M.  Gorham,  Fenton  J.  A.  Hort,  J.  B. 
Lightfoot,  and  C.  B.  Scott. 

In  the  same  year  visions  of  work  at  Cambridge 
were  first  unfolded  to  him,  and  he  writes  to  Mr. 
Lightfoot  : — 

HARROW,  26lk  February  1857. 

You  make  me  almost  ambitious  when  you  speak  of  Cam 
bridge  Professorships.  I  often  feel  unsettled  here,  and  you 
ought  not  to  make  me  more  so.  If  I  could  ever  see  any 
chance  of  such  a  post  there  is  nothing  I  should  look  forward 
to  with  more  hope  •  but  I  know  how  many  men  there  are  to 
whom  I  must  yield.  However,  if  I  could  make  myself  not 
unworthy,  but — castle  building,  vain  castle-building. 

In  January  1859  my  father  preached  four  sermons 
before  the  University  of  Cambridge,  which  were 
subsequently  published  with  notes  under  the  title 
Characteristics  of  the  Gospel  Miracles.  Just  before 
this  brief  renewal  of  his  connexion  with  Cambridge  he 
had  seriously  considered  the  advisability  of  offering  him 
self  for  the  Vice-Principalship  of  St.  David's  College, 
Lampeter.  In  the  following  letter  to  Mr.  Lightfoot 
he  states  his  reasons  for  abandoning  the  idea  of 
Lampeter,  and  seeks  hospitality  for  the  occasion  of  his 
first  sermon  : — 

iv  HARROW  203 

HARROW,  yd  January  1859. 

My  dear  Lightfoot — First  let  me  offer  you  all  good 
wishes  of  the  New  Year ;  then  let  me  thank  you  for  your 
kind  note  and  the  information  about  St.  David's.  You  will 
see  by  the  time  which  has  passed  that  I  have  not  decided 
hastily,  and  I  trust  that  I  have  decided  rightly  in  determining 
to  think  no  more  of  the  office.  When  I  first  entertained 
the  notion  I  was  not  aware  that  the  post  included  a  pro 
fessorship  of  Hebrew.  It  may  be  true  that  I  could  make 
myself  competent  to  undertake  this  work,  but  I  feel  that  I 
should  not  be  competent  at  the  time  I  made  claim  for  the 
appointment.  This  I  hold  to  be  a  fatal  bar.  But  more  than 
this,  I  do  not  think  I  could  undertake  the  work  at  Lam  peter 
as  a  final  work.  My  hope  is — a  very  vague  hope,  and  one 
which  grows  dimmer — that  I  may  come  again  to  Cambridge, 
and  I  should  not  like  to  go  to  Lampeter  with  the  conscious 
intention  of  leaving  as  soon  as  I  could  find  another  place. 
I  called  Hort  into  counsel  on  the  matter  when  we  were  at 
St.  Ippolyt's  last  week,  and  he  fully  confirmed  me  in  my 
decision.  You  will,  I  hope,  do  so  too.  He  spoke  very 
kindly  and  frankly  of  my  supposed  chances  at  Cambridge. 
I  see  clearly  the  difficulties  there,  and,  with  its  many  heavy 
drawbacks,  I  see  the  advantages  of  Harrow.  But  I  see  no 
good  in  anticipating  a  remote  future. 

Shall  you  be  able  to  find  me  any  resting-place  on  the 
evening  of  the  i5th  ?  I  must  ask  you  to  be  my  tutor  now. 
Can't  I  change  "  sides  "  ? — Ever  yours  affectionately, 


The  year  1859  was  altogether  a  very  crowded 
one  in  my  father's  life.  He  had  two  years  previously 
undertaken  to  write  articles  for  Dr.  Smith's  Bible 
Dictionary r,  covering  the  whole  period  from  Ezra  to  the 
times  of  the  New  Testament.  The  first  volume  of 
this  work  appeared  in  the  course  of  this  year,  my 
father's  most  important  contributions  to  it  being  his 
articles  on  the  Canon  and  on  Herod.  His  contributions 

204          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

to  the  whole  work  were  very  numerous,  and  included 
lengthy  articles  on  the  New  Testament  and  the  Vulgate. 
At  the  same  time,  work  at  the  text  of  the  New  Testa 
ment  was  not  neglected,  and  the  whole  atmosphere  was 
charged  with  commentary  schemes.  The  Commentary 
originally  projected  by  Dr.  Smith,  of  which  mention  is 
made  in  the  following  letter  to  Mr.  Hort,  was  abandoned 
in  1863  : — 

HARROW,  $th  August  1859. 

.  .  .  Hitherto  my  great  scheme  of  work  has  not  been 
very  successful,  but  I  am  making  some  progress  with  the 
Gospels,  which  I  had  hoped  to  finish.  St.  John  I  revised 
some  time  since,  and,  if  you  like,  we  might  proceed  to 
compare  notes  by  letter.  For  some  reasons  I  prefer  letters 
to  viva  voce  comparisons.  They  seem  less  discursive  and 
more  deliberate.  Dr.  Vaughan  asks  me  to  let  him  have  a 
few  remarks  on  the  text  of  Romans  in  about  three  weeks, 
and  I  shall  trouble  you  with  a  draft  of  what  I  wish  to  say. 
What  a  noble  group  you  have  for  your  historical  work.  In 
some  way  or  other  I  have  contrived  to  gain  a  definite  wish 
at  least  to  learn  more  of  all  the  men  whom  you  mention, 
and  I  have  much  more  hope  of  learning  history  truly — so 
as  to  feel  it — by  becoming  acquainted  with  the  "  individuals  " 
of  a  time  than  in  any  other  way. 

For  Dr.  Smith  I  have  reached  to  the  end  of  a  first  volume 
(K),  which  is  to  be  published  in  October.  Of  the  Com 
mentary  I  have  heard  nothing,  for  hitherto  I  have  been 
unable  to  attend  any  of  the  dinners  where  such  things  are 
discussed.  He  offered  Romans,  I  believe,  to  Dr.  Vaughan. 

Shall  I  say  that  it  is  almost  a  relief  to  hear  you  speak  of 
the  hard  trials  of  "  routine  "  ?  I  sometimes  think  that  I  feel 
them  in  a  peculiar  degree,  but  I  fancy  all  life  is  mixed  up 
with  them.  Of  all  discipline  they  seem  the  hardest  to  bear, 
and  therefore  perhaps  the  most  necessary.  Pardon  this. 

While  the  Dr.  Smith  Commentary  was  still  in 
suspense,  and  the  later  projected  Commentaries  of 

iv  HARROW  205 

Rivington  and  The  Speaker  were  yet  in  the  future, 
Macmillan  entered  the  field  and  approached  my  father 
on  the  subject.  It  is  clear  that  the  need  of  a  scholarly 
Biblical  Commentary  was  very  widely  felt.  My  father 
entered  into  Macmillan's  plan,  and  wrote  to  him  as 
follows  : — 


HARROW,  24! h  November  1859. 

With  regard  to  the  text  and  notes,  I  feel  as  if  a  combina 
tion  would  be  necessary.  If  you  could  persuade  Mr.  Light- 
foot  to  undertake  St.  Paul's  Epistles,  I  should  rejoice  exceed 
ingly.  For  myself,  I  should  be  glad  to  reserve  the  writings  of 
St.  John,  including  the  Apokalypse,  and  the  Epistle  to  the 

Mr.  Lightfoot  also  viewed  the  proposal  with  favour, 
but  differed  from  my  father  in  certain  details.  Here 
upon  my  father  wrote  to  him  : 

HARROW,  "]th  December  1859. 

My  dear  Lightfoot — The  prospect  of  a  common  work 
on  the  New  Testament  is  one  so  delightful  in  every  respect 
that  the  differences  in  our  plans  must  be  very  great  if  I,  at 
least,  do  not  yield  far  enough  to  make  common  work  possible. 
Macmillan's  letter  reached  me  this  morning.  He  seems  to 
be  open  to  any  scheme  on  which  we  could  agree,  so  that  for 
the  present  we  may  theorise  safely. 

The  peculiarities  of  your  plan  seem,  then,  as  far  as  it  is 
distinguished  from  that  which  had  occurred  to  me — i.  The 
printing  a  Greek  text.  2.  The  addition  of  select  various 
readings.  3.  The  printing  of  the  English  Version.  The 
'first  of  these  is,  of  course,  open  to  no  objections.  Probably 
we  should  be  in  close  communication  as  to  the  formation  of 
the  text,  while  the  annotator  would  be  finally  responsible  for 
the  text  adopted  in  his  section.  Such  an  arrangement  as 
this  might,  I  conceive,  be  every  way  productive  of  good. 
But  2  seems  to  me  a  more  difficult  question.  Would  you 

206          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

not  confine  yourself  to  readings  which  you  regard  as  possibly 
true — as  Hort  and  I  proposed  to  do  ?  If  so,  then  on  this 
we  are  agreed  also.  Otherwise  it  seems  to  me  that  a  selec 
tion  of  readings  satisfies  neither  the  scholar  nor  the  ordinary 
reader.  But  your  note  does  not  enter  into  details,  and  the 
point  may  be  left  for  the  present.  Practically  I  fear  that  I 
should  find  the  corrections  which  you  propose  in  3  difficult. 
If  you  mark  only  positive  blunders,  then  perhaps  the  task 
would  be  easy  j  but  how  hard  to  draw  the  line  between  an 
offence  and  a  falling  short.  However,  I  do  not  see  any 
difference  between  us  sufficiently  great  to  render  it  anything 
but  a  great  pleasure  to  work  together.  If  you  would-  prepare 
a  few  pages,  then  we  should  have  a  standard  for  work 
easily  settled. 

As  to  fellow- workers :  who  occur  to  you?  Hort  has 
promised  to  undertake  the  Synoptists  for  Dr.  Smith.  What 
else  would  he  do  ?  Davies  would  do  the  Acts  and  Catholic 
Epistles  better,  unless  I  am  mistaken,  than  the  Synoptic 
Gospels.  His  tone,  I  can  imagine,  would  differ  much  from 
that  which  you  or  I  should  adopt  in  dealing  with  the  Gospels, 
but  in  these  Books  not  so  much,  I  fancy.  Supposing  the 
scheme  to  be  possible,  I  think  that  there  should  be  some 
definite  outline  of  plan  drawn  up,  and  a  general  editorship. 
I  suggested  to  Macmillan  that  you  might  be  willing  to  share 
that  labour  with  me.  Our  principles,  I  believe,  would  be 
absolutely  one.  Benson  just  occurs  to  me.  What  do  you 
think  of  him  for  the  Synoptists  ? 

On  the  same  day  my  father  wrote  again  to  Mr. 
Macmillan  : — 

HARROW,  ^th  December  1859. 

I  have  heard  from  Mr.  Lightfoot  on  the  subject  of  the 
proposed  Commentary.  ...  If  the  scheme  comes  to  any 
thing,  I  think  a  very  definite  plan  must  be  drawn  up  for  the 
guidance  of  the  work,  and,  as  I  said  before,  some  general 
editorship  will  be  desirable  to  preserve  general  unity  of  tone. 
Mr.  Hort  above  all  men  I  should  welcome  as  a  fellow- 
labourer,  because  I  know  how  heartily  I  could  sympathise 


HARROW  207 

with  all  his  principles  where  in  detail  I  might  differ  from  him, 
and  so  would  Mr.  Lightfoot.  ...  I  confess,  as  you  know,  to 
a  most  profound  and  ever-growing  belief  in  words,  and  I 
should  rejoice  if  all  who  might  share  in  any  such  Commentary 
as  is  proposed  could  bring  to  the  work  an  absolute  faith  in 
language,  and  so  in  Scripture. 

I  should  rejoice  very  much  to  hear  of  an  English  Introduc 
tion  to  the  Old  Testament,  and  if  I  could  be  of  the  slightest 
use  in  considering  the  outline,  let  me  do  whatever  I  can, 
though  I  am  indeed  most  incapable  of  giving  advice  except  in 
one  or  two  very  limited  divisions. 

Mr.  Hort  also  entered  into  the  scheme,  and  some 
months  later  my  father  wrote  him  the  following : — 

HARROW,  $th  May  1860. 

My  dear  Hort — I  am  very  glad  to  have  seen  both  your 
note  and  Lightfoot's — glad  too  that  we  have  had  such  an 
opportunity  of  openly  speaking.  For  I  too  "  must  disclaim 
setting  forth  infallibility"  in  the  front  of  my  convictions. 
All  I  hold  is,  that  the  more  I  learn,  the  more  I  am  convinced 
that  fresh  doubts  come  from  my  own  ignorance,  and  that  at 
present  I  find  the  presumption  in  favour  of  the  absolute 
truth — I  reject  the  word  infallibility — of  Holy  Scripture  over 
whelming.  Of  course  I  feel  difficulties  which  at  present  I 
cannot  solve,  and  which  I  never  hope  to  solve. 

Meanwhile,  until  we  meet,  and  this  we  evidently  must  do, 
I  shall  work  on  with  great  satisfaction,  beginning  with  St. 
John's  Gospel.  How  I  shall  ever  have  the  heart  to  see  notes 
printed  I  cannot  tell. 

But  I  have  now  time  only  to  thank  you  for  your  note. 
My  confession  of  faith  you  will  find  soon,  I  hope,  in  the 
little  Introduction^  which  ought  to  be  ready  now. — Ever  yours 
affectionately,  BROOKE  F.  WESTCOTT. 

I  shall  still  hold  my  engagement  to  Dr.  Smith  for  Daniel 
and  Apokrypha.  Indeed,  for  the  Old  Testament  I  think  his 
scheme  possible^  but  not  for  the  New. 

208          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  the  three  friends,  Hort, 
Lightfoot,  and  Westcott,  formed  the  plan  of  under 
taking  together  a  commentary  on  the  whole  New 
Testament.1  The  scheme  was  that  Lightfoot  should 
comment  on  the  Pauline  writings,  Westcott  on  the 
Johannine,  and  Hort  on  the  historico-Judaic.  This 
general  idea  was  never  wholly  abandoned.  Dr.  Hort 
was  only  able  to  publish  a  very  small  portion  of  his 
allotted  task,  but  Dr.  Lightfoot  and  my  father  made 
very  considerable  progress  with  their  portions. 

In  the  latter  part  of  1859  my  father,  at  Mr. 
Lightfoot's  suggestion,  was  seriously  thinking  of  offer 
ing  himself  as  a  candidate  for  the  Hulsean  Lectureship 
in  1860.  He  thus  wrote  to  his  friend  at  Cambridge: — 

HARROW,  yd  November  1859. 

My  dear  Lightfoot — Many,  many  thanks  for  your  kind 
note.  I  have  paused,  you  see,  some  time  before  coming  to  a 
conclusion,  but  I  do  not  see  any  serious  reason  why  I  should 
not  be  a  candidate  for  the  Lectureship.  I  cannot  hear  that 
any  older  man  is  a  candidate,  or  any  one  to  whom  I  should 
feel  bound  to  yield,  and  so  I  intend  to  offer  myself  in  due 
course.  Can  you  tell  me  anything  of  the  form  ?  I  imagine 
that  it  is  needless  to  send  in  the  name  before  the  beginning 
of  December,  and  much  might  happen  in  the  meantime  to 
interfere  with  my  design.  I  fully  feel  the  difficulty  of  the 
office,  but  there  are  one  or  two  things  which  I  should  be 
glad  to  say,  and  so  that  one  can  speak  what  one  feels  to  be 
truth  useful  to  oneself,  there  is  hope  that  some  one  else  may 
find  help  in  it. 

Some  time  or  other  when  we  meet  I  shall  be  very  glad  to 
learn  what  are  the  objectionable  parts  in  my  sermons.  I 
fancied  that  I  kept  wonderfully  within  the  limits  of  orthodoxy: 
but  I  trust  that  my  object  was  rather  to  say  what  I  felt  than 
to  square  what  I  said  to  any  scheme. 

1  See  Life  of  Dr.  Hort,  i.  417,  418. 

iv  HARROW  209 

We  are  still  all  in  uncertainty  here.  Butler  has  not  been 
talked  of  so  much  lately,  but  I  trust  that  his  chance  is  not 
less  promising. 

A  few  days  later,  however,  he  wrote  to  say  that  he 
had  given  up  the  idea  of  the  Lectureship,  being  under 
the  impression  that  Dr.  Vaughan,  who  was  just  then 
leaving  Harrow,  was  likely  to  be  a  candidate.  To  him 
my  father  would  certainly  have  felt  bound  to  yield. 

Dr.  Butler's  election  to  the  vacant  Headmastership 
of  Harrow  was  announced  on  I5th  November.  In  a 
letter  to  an  old  pupil  my  father  expresses  his  satis 
faction  : — 

HARROW,  2&th  January  1860. 

My  dear  Dalrymple — I  delayed  answering  your  letter  till  I 
could  send  you  some  tidings  which  were  likely  to  interest  you 
most — of  Harrow  and  our  new  head.  Hitherto  all  has  been 
as  prosperous  as  could  be  wished.  The  numbers  of  the 
school  are  increased,  and  from  the  first  Mr.  Butler  has 
distinctly  taken  his  place  as  Sovereign.  I  felt  some  anxiety 
lest  he  should  betray  any  indecision  or  nervousness,  and  so 
create  a  suspicion  of  weakness ;  but  my  fears  were  quite 
groundless.  At  the  first  Masters'  meeting  he  took  Dr. 
Vaughan's  chair  with  the  calmest  ease,  guiding  all  the 
deliberations  with  the  most  perfect  calmness  and  self- 
command.  To  preach  was  a  more  trying  task ;  but  I  could 
not  see  that  his  step  was  quicker  when  he  went  to  the 
pulpit,  or  notice  any  trembling  in  his  voice  when  he  began 
his  sermon.  His  delivery  was  rapid,  and  somewhat  mono 
tonous,  but  the  composition  was  admirable,  many  of  the 
sentences  exquisitely  neat,  the  thoughts  unusually  abundant ; 
and  the  audience  was  evidently  deeply  interested.  In  allud 
ing  to  his  work  he  spoke  with  singular  modesty  and  manliness. 
I  am  sure  that  you  would  have  been  pleased,  and  contented 
to  trust  Harrow  to  his  guidance. 

In  the  summer  of   1859  my  father  paid  a  visit  to 
VOL.  I  P 

2io          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

"  the  home  of  his  ancestors  "  in  Devon.  Some  twenty 
years  later,  when  we  were  staying  at  Porlock,  on  the 
borders  of  Dorset  and  Devon,  somebody  furnished  our 
party,  which  included  Bishop  Benson  and  Bishop 
Lightfoot,  with  a  picnic.  On  that  occasion  some  local 
magnate  remarked  to  my  father  that  they  were  restoring 
their  church,  presumably  Shobrooke,  and  were  taking 
every  care  of  the  tombs  of  his  ancestors.  I  don't  know 
whether  my  father  was  moved  to  subscribe  to  the 
restoration  fund  for  his  ancestors'  sake ;  but  he  seems 
to  have  concluded  on  this  earlier  occasion  that  they 
needed  some  care.  He  describes  his  visit  in  full  in  a 
letter  to  his  wife. 


EXETER,  17^  August  1859. 

My  dearest  Mary — As  we  have  returned  from  our  little 
stroll,  and  have  now  nothing  to  do,  I  will  try  to  write  you  the 
history  of  "  A  visit  to  the  home  of  my  ancestors."  Well,  to 
begin  at  the  beginning,  I  went  to  Crediton  at  eleven,  and 
having  reached  the  station,  asked  the  way  to  Shobrooke,  and 
in  due  course  came  to  the  church,  which  is  a  pretty  little 
building  with  a  well-proportioned  tower,  snugly  resting  under 
the  crest  of  the  hill,  and  looking  far  over  a  rich  country.  I 
walked  back  to  the  Parsonage  to  get  the  keys,  and  met  the 
clergyman,  with  whom  I  had  a  little  talk.  He  directed  me  to 
notice  some  Norman  oak  carving  in  a  part  of  the  Gallery. 
"There  is  nothing  else,"  he  said,  "of  interest  in  the  church." 
So  I  went  again  to  examine  the  interior.  The  "  Norman  " 
work  proved  to  be  Renaissance  of  the  date  of  James  I.,  but 
there  were  some  curious  combinations  of  Gothic  and  Italian 
details  which  I  do  not  remember  to  have  noticed  elsewhere. 
But  I  was  searching  for  tombstones  and  not  for  architectural 
details,  and  it  was  sad  to  see  nearly  all  of  these  broken  and 
defaced  by  the  erection  of  pews  and  the  reflooring  of  part  of  the 
church.  Only  one  Westcott  stone  was  tolerably  perfect,  and 


HARROW  211 

even  this  was  deprived  of  its  ornamental  termination.  How 
ever,  there  were  some  very  good  lines  on  the  Philip  Westcott 
whom  it  commemorated,  which  shall  serve  as  the  moral  of  my 
story.  Having  seen  the  church,  my  next  object  was  to  see 
Raddon,  or  rather  two  Raddons,  West  Raddon  and  Raddon 
Court.  ...  At  last  I  came  to  West  Raddon.  Poor 
place  !  it  was  crushed  by  vast  farm  buildings,  and  scarcely 
any  trace  of  an  old  building  remained  about  it.  One  or  two 
windows  showed  the  deep  splays  of  Elizabeth's  time,  but  even 
these  were  rilled  with  new  framework.  It  seemed  sad.  West 
Raddon  was  gone.  Well,  Raddon  Court  remained.  There 
was  hope  there.  ...  I  was  dismayed  when  I  looked  for 
the  old  house  to  find  a  fine  new  building,  but  hope  still 
whispered  that  the  old  one  might  be  in  the  hollow  behind 
the  trees.  A  workman  was  busy  near,  and  I  said :  "Is  this 
Raddon  Court?" — "Yes,  sir;  fine  buildings  these,  sir." — 
But  is  there  not  another  old  house  ?  " — "  Jem,  how  long  is  it 
since  the  old  Court  was  pulled  down  ? "  my  friend  asked  of 
his  son. — "Twelve  years." — "You'll  find  nothing,  sir,  but  a 
bit  of  the  out -houses  turned  into  these  labourers'  cottages. 
The  dwelling-house  was  all  pulled  down,  and  where  it  stood 
is  now  a  garden."  So  hope  ended.  "The  home  of  my 
ancestors  "  has  gone  and  left  no  trace.  At  least  the  future, 
then,  is  all  open.  There  is  no  Raddon  to  look  to,  as  a  spot 
to  be  sought  again.  It  has  gone,  and  we  must  found  for 
ourselves  a  new  home.  Now  for  my  moral : — 

Here  lieth,  etc.  .  .  .  Anno  Dni.  1647,  act.  suae  41. 

If  fortune's  gifts,  if  nature's  strength 
Could  to  thy  life  have  added  length, 
Philip,  thou  hadst  not  been  so  soone 
Brought  here  to  bed  before  thy  noone. 
But  casuall  things  away  soone  fly, 
Only  thy  vertues  never  dye  ; 
Sleep  then  in  peace  here  till  thy  dust 
Have  resurrection  with  the  just. 


212          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

This  Philip  Westcott  is  reported  to  have  been  a 
scholar.  My  father  once  purchased  an  ancient  tome — 
a  Bible,  I  believe — and  found  therein  the  name  of 
Philip  Westcott. 

In  February  1 860  Essays  and  Reviews  was  published. 
This  volume  contained  seven  Essays  written  by  various 
authors,  and  described  itself  as  "  an  attempt  to  illustrate 
the  advantage  derivable  to  the  cause  of  religious  and 
moral  truth  from  a  free  handling,  in  a  becoming  spirit, 
of  subjects  peculiarly  liable  to  suffer  by  the  repetition 
of  conventional  language,  and  from  traditional  methods 
of  treatment."  Amongst  the  seven  authors  were 
included  Professor  Jowett  and  Dr.  Temple,  at  that 
time  Headmaster  of  Rugby.  By  the  appearance  of 
this  work  my  father  was  greatly  moved.  He  felt  it 
to  be  imperative  that  the  position  taken  up  by  the 
essayists  should  be  seriously  and  reasonably  assailed. 
He  was  most  indignant  with  the  Bishops  for  merely 
shrieking  at  the  Essays,  and  declares  that  the  language 
of  Bishop  Prince  Lee  about  the  Essays  roused  his 
indignation  beyond  expression.  He  was  most  anxious 
that  Lightfoot  and  Hort  should  join  with  him  in 
preparing  a  reply  to  the  controverted  volume.  For 
his  own  part,  he  felt  this  to  be  so  important  that  he 
would  gladly  lay  aside  all  other  work  that  he  might 
be  free  to  point  out  some  via  media.  His  letters  of 
the  time  are  full  of  this  matter ;  but  he  was  not  content 
with  writing  only.  He  and  Lightfoot  together  had 
an  interview  with  Dean  Stanley  on  the  subject  of 
Dr.  Temple  and  the  Headmastership  of  Rugby. 

The  following  are  extracts  from  letters  bearing  on 
this  subject : — 

,v  HARROW  213 

To  THE  REV.  F.  J.  A.  HORT 

6th  August  1860. 

The  other  day  I  had  a  note  about  a  series  of  essays  on 
the  aspects  of  Revelation  which  are  designed  as  a  kind  of 
informal  protest  against  Essays  and  Reviews.  At  first  I  could 
only  say  that  I  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  controversy  • 
that  it  seemed  to  me  that  to  state  the  simple  truth  was  the 
best  refutation  of  error ;  but  that  if  free  scope  were  given  I 
might  be  glad  to  do  anything  I  could  to  maintain  what  I  hold 
to  be  very  precious  truth.  It  occurred  to  me  that  you  too 
might  not  be  unwilling  to  join  in  some  such  scheme ;  and  I 
thought  also  of  asking  Lightfoot,  but  I  do  not  by  any  means 
know  yet  whether  such  a  form  as  I  propose  would  meet  the 
objects  of  those  who  started  the  scheme,  particularly  as  it  was 

in  the  first  instance  in  the  hands  of ,  in  whose  judgment 

I  have  not  the  greatest  confidence.  But  I  had  pondered 
independently  the  possibility  of  some  such  plan  before,  and 
if  anything  is  to  be  done,  it  is  something  at  any  rate  to  know 
where  you  are. 

Briefly,  it  is  quite  evident  that  a  great  battle  for  truth  must 
come  soon,  and  that  every  one  must  as  a  first  duty,  if  he  sees 
anything  of  Truth,  or  honestly  thinks  that  he  does,  arm  himself 
to  the  best  of  his  ability.  I  do  not  underrate  purely  critical 
work,  yet  I  should  grieve  to  think  that  you  are  wholly  devoted 
to  it.  I  feel  sure  that  there  are  yet  other  fields  on  which  we 
are  bound  NOW  to  spend  some  time  and  with  definite  aims. 
The  Guardian  notice,  if  it  did  no  other  good,  made  me  feel 
how  wide  a  chasm  there  is  between  me  and  those  with  whom 
I  would  have  gladly  worked,  and  I  am  more  and  more  inclined 
to  think  that  something  might  be  done  by  a  series  of  pre 
liminary  essays  to  our  Commentary.  I  have  not  spoken  to 
Lightfoot  yet,  but  I  think  it  is  needful  to  show  that  there  is  a 
mean  between  Essays  and  Reviews  and  Traditionalism.  From 
all  that  I  see  of  younger  men,  I  am  satisfied  that  there  is 
good  reason  to  hope  yet,  and  great  reason  to  fear  from 
Comtism.  You  will  see  how  hastily  I  am  writing,  but  indeed 
this  is  no  epicurism.  I  tremble  to  think  of  writing  on  some 

214          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

topics,   and  yet  silence  can   hardly  be   kept   much   longer, 
though  to  break  it  will  be  to  express  only  partial  truth. 

HARROW,  i$th  December  1860. 

It  is  precisely  because  our  position  is  growing  unpopular 
and  suspected  that  I  am  very  anxious  to  speak  at  once  and 
support  it.  The  Essays  and  Reviews  precipitate  a  crisis,  and 
even  an  imperfect  expression  of  opinion  is  better  than  silence. 
Just  now  I  think  we  might  find  many  ready  to  welcome  the 
true  mean  between  the  inexorable  logic  of  the  Westminster 
and  the  sceptical  dogmatism  of  orthodoxy.  At  any  rate, 
I  am  sure  that  there  is  a  true  mean,  and  that  no  one  has 
asserted  its  claims  on  the  allegiance  of  faithful  men.  Now,  I 
think  that  Lightfoot,  you,  and  I  are  in  the  main  agreed,  and 
I  further  think  that  with  our  convictions  we  are  at  such  a 
time  bound  to  express  them.  The  subjects  which  had 
occurred  to  me  are — (i)  The  development  of  the  doctrine 
of  Messiah,  including  the  discussion  of  the  selection  of  one 
people  out  of  many.  (2)  Miracles  and  history.  (3)  The 
development  of  Christian  doctrine  out  of  the  apostolic 
teaching.  In  other  words,  I  should  like  to  have  the  Incar 
nation  as  a  centre,  and  on  either  side  the  preparation  for  it, 
and  the  apprehension  of  it  in  history.  These  subjects,  I 
confess,  seem  to  me  to  be  distinct  from  a  Commentary,  and 
far  more  fitted  for  separate  discussion.  If  we  combined  we 
might  severally  have  to  make  some  sacrifices,  but  the  case 
demands  it. 


HARROW,  20* h  December  1860. 

Let  me  introduce  myself  to  you  in  the  character  of  an 
agitator.  Possibly  Hort  has  written  to  you  on  a  subject  on 
which  I  feel  very  deeply.  It  seems  to  me  that  we  ought,  with 
as  little  delay  as  possible,  to  write  some  essays  preliminary  to 
the  Commentary.  I  do  not  care  much  for  Essays  and  Reviews 
in  themselves,  but  they  precipitate  a  division ;  and  a  reaction 
more  perilous  than  scepticism  seems  already  setting  in.  Now 

iv  HARROW  215 

I  think  that  we  can  make  good  a  position  equally  removed 
from  sceptical  dogmatism  and  unbelief.  I  enclose  a  note 
from  Hort,  and  he  probably  may  have  sent  you  one  of  mine 
in  answer  to  his  objections.  I  do  trust  that  you  will  view  the 
matter  as  we  do.  The  need  seems  to  be  urgent,  and  silence 
is  now,  I  think,  positively  wrong. 

To  THE  REV.  F.  J.  A.  HORT 

HARROW,  tyh  February  1861. 

I  have  been  thinking  much  what  can  be  done  about  the 
reckless  assaults  on  Essays  and  Reviews.  First  I  thought  of 
a  protest ;  then  it  was  suggested  to  write  to  Dr.  Jelf.  Can 
you  think  of  anything  ?  For  Mr.  Wilson  I  cannot  say  one 
word.  But  I  do  feel  that  the  attacks  made  on  Jowett  (much 
as  I  think  him  in  error)  can  only  end  in  injuring  the  Truth. 
Does  any  practicable  plan  occur  to  you  ?  As  it  is,  I  can  only 
speak  as  I  have  opportunity. 

TO    THE   REV.    J.    F.    WlCKENDEN 

HARROW,  zyh  February  1861. 

Of  all  cares,  almost  the  greatest  which  I  have  had  has  been 
Essays  and  Reviews  and  its  opponents.  The  controversy  is 
fairly  turning  me  grey.  I  look  on  the  assailants  of  the 
Essayists,  from  Bishops  downwards,  as  likely  to  do  far  more 
harm  to  the  Church  and  the  Truth  than  the  Essayists.  The 
only  result  of  such  a  wild  clamour  must  be  to  make  people 
believe  that  the  voice  of  authority  alone,  and  not  of  calm 
reason,  can  meet  the  theories  of  the  Essayists,  and  thus  to 
wholly  give  up  Truth,  and  the  love  of  it,  to  the  other  side. 
It  would  be  impossible  to  find  opinions  more  opposed  to  my 
own  than  those  of  the  Essayists,  and  for  this  very  reason,  I 
am  most  anxious  to  see  the  error  calmly  and  clearly  pointed 
out,  and  not  merely  shrieked  at.  As  far  as  I  have  seen, 
those  who  have  written  against  the  Essayists  have  been  pro 
foundly  ignorant  of  the  elements  of  the  difficulties  out  of 
which  the  Essays  have  sprung. 

216          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

After  much  anxious  consideration  Lightfoot  decided 
that  he  could  not  join  in  this  undertaking,  and  his 
defection  led  to  the  abandonment  of  the  scheme. 

To  THE  REV.  F.  J.  A.  HORT 

30^  March  1861. 

It  is  a  sad  defection,  and  I  hardly  see  how  we  can  carry 
out  the  scheme.  Lightfoot  was  a  good  mediator  between  us, 
and  his  part  was  a  necessary  element.  I  can  think  of  no 
one  who  could  take  his  place,  and  I  fear  we  should  alone  be 
unequal  to  the  task. 

In  December  1860  my  father  visited  Oxford  in  order 
to  take  an  Ad  Eundem  degree,  and  so  gain  access  to 
Oxford's  literary  treasures.  He  was  the  guest  of  Dr. 
Jeune  during  his  stay  there,  and  appears  to  have 
thoroughly  enjoyed  his  visit.  The  following  extracts 
from  letters  which  he  wrote  thence  will  give  an  idea  of 
some  of  his  Oxford  impressions  and  experiences  : — 

OXFORD,  i%th,  igt/i,  and  2oth  December. 

.  .  .  Oxford  quite  overpowers  prejudice.  It  is  not  in  its 
general  effect  at  all  what  I  fancied  that  it  would  be,  though 
every  building  by  itself  seems  familiar.  .  .  .  We  wandered 
down  to  Magdalen.  The  tower  and  bridge  you  must  re 
member  ;  and  looking  over  cloisters  I  could  hardly  wonder 
that  Elmsley — the  great  Greek  scholar — when  pressed  to  say 
what  would  have  been  his  highest  wish  for  life,  said,  "To 
have  been  President  of  Magdalen."  (He  was  an  Oxford 
man,  and  did  not,  perhaps,  know  of  Trinity.) 

...  It  so  happened  that  a  Mr.  Senior  was  staying  with  Dr. 
Jeune.  He  is  a  famous  man,  a  great  lawyer  and  political 
economist ;  a  man  who  knows  every  one  from  the  Queen  to 
the  Pope  .  .  .  We  got  on  very  well  together.  By  this  time 
I  have  grown  well  used  to  paradoxes,  and  am  not  prepared 

iv  HARROW  217 

to  run  against  every  one's  angles  and  bruise  myself.  Indeed, 
there  was  much  to  learn  from  Mr.  Senior,  and  Dr.  Jeune 
extracted  admirable  anecdotes  and  sayings,  which  would 
enrich  me  for  a  year,  could  I  but  remember  them.  .  .  . 

Every  one  is  busy  with  controversy,  and  one  gentleman 
announced  that  "the  feelings  of  scorn  and  contempt  were 
given  us  by  Almighty  God  to  wither  such  empty  sciolists  as  " 
Darwin  and  all  naturalists  in  a  mass.  .  .  . 

Dr.  Jeune  introduced  me  to  Dr.  Pusey,  one  of  the  few 
men  I  was  anxious  to  see.  He  had,  I  believe,  never  been  in 
Dr.  Jeune's  drawing-room  before.  It  was  a  study,  as  you 
may  imagine,  to  watch  him  and  Mr.  Senior  together.  Gentle 
ness  and  simplicity  were  well  matched  with  cynicism  and  wit. 
"  What  a  face  !  "  said  Mr.  Senior,  speaking  of  a  portrait  in  a 
book  he  was  reading  ;  "  why,  he  is  Puritanism  incarnate.  He 
looks  like  a  man  who  would  deny  every  word  of  every  one  of 
the  Thirty-nine  Articles."  Dr.  Pusey  could  not  but  look  at 
the  ominous  face,  and  closed  the  book  with  a  quaint  smile. 
There  was  some  talk  of  a  famous  collection  of  MSS.  which 
has  been  offered  to  the  University.  "  But,"  said  Dr.  Pusey, 
"we  have  always  heard  that  there  are  bailiffs  about  the 
house."  "Oh,  then,"  said  Mr.  Senior,  "tell  the  owner  to 
close  the  bargain  at  once,  and  he  will  have  the  double  pleasure 
of  benefiting  his  University  and  cheating  his  creditors." 

In  the  evening  we  had  graver  talk,  and  I  was  amazed  at 
the  acuteness  and  ready  vigour  of  a  man,  near  seventy  I  am 
told,  who  knows  Homer  and  Horace  better  than  I  do,  and 
beneath  a  surface  of  raillery  has  high  aspirations  after  truth. 
The  great  event  this  morning  was  my  admission  ad  eundem. 
The  ceremony  was  dignified.  I  shone  in  a  red  hood,  and, 
preceded  by  three  maces  (I  never  had  such  honour  at  Cam 
bridge),  was  led  to  the  Vice-Chancellor,  who  was  throned  in 
state  and  supported  by  the  Proctors.  The  Oxford  mathe 
matician  presented  me,  and  I  was  declared  to  have  the 
privilege  of  "  reading  "  and  teaching  and  many  other  things 
which  I  could  hardly  follow.  The  first  was  the  one  I  wished 
to  exercise,  and  so  I  went  immediately  to  the  Bodleian. 
There  I  saw  the  great  MS.,  found  an  error  in  Tischendorf 
(how  pleasant !),  ascertained  the  character  of  another  MS. 
which  is  a  great  favourite  of  Hort's,  and  spent  there  three 

218          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

very  pleasant  hours.     The  Librarian,   Mr.  Coxe,  is  a  most 
kind  man. 

When,  in  1 86 1,  the  Hulsean  Professorship  of  Divinity 
at  Cambridge  became  vacant,  my  father  felt   that  he 
ought  to  be  a  candidate  for  the  office.     It  had  long 
been  his  cherished  hope  that  he  might  one  day  be  per 
mitted  to  occupy  such  a  position.     He  was  convinced 
that  he  had  a  message  to  deliver,  and  was,  moreover, 
specially  anxious  at  this  time  to  vindicate  his  orthodoxy. 
He  believed  that  the  charges  of  being  "  unsafe  "  and  of 
"  Germanising "  brought  against  him  were  unjust,  and 
though  the  change  would  have  involved  a  considerable 
sacrifice  of  income,  he  thought  that  it  was  his  duty  to 
avail  himself  of  the  present  opportunity,  and  bear  the 
pecuniary  loss.      He  did  not  at   first   realise  that  his 
friend,   Mr.  Lightfoot,  whom  he    believed  to   be  quite 
satisfied  with  his  present  position   as  Tutor  of  Trinity, 
was  also  inclined  to  be  a  candidate.     When  each  of 
the  two  friends  became  aware  of  the  other's  feelings  a 
generous  contest  arose,  which  resulted  in  my  father's 
withdrawal  and  Mr.  Lightfoot's  candidature,  as  it  was 
agreed  that  the  latter  had  the  better  chance  of  election. 
Mr.  Lightfoot  was,  in  fact,  elected,  but  declared  that  he 
would  not  be  content  until  my  father  also  was  established 
at  Cambridge.     Thus  it  was  that  when  some  ten  years 
later    the    Regius    Professorship   of    Divinity    became 
vacant,  Dr.  Lightfoot,  contrary  to  general  expectation, 
declined  to  be  a   candidate,  but   instead   thereof,   de 
voted    himself    heartily    and    successfully    to   securing 
my   father's    election.      The    following   letters   to    Mr. 
Lightfoot  illustrate  this  incident  of  the   Hulsean  Pro 
fessorship  : — 

iv  HARROW  219 

HARROW,  2'jtk  September  1861. 

My  dear  Lightfoot — I  wrote  a  letter  to  you  to  Cambridge, 
which  I  directed  not  to  be  forwarded,  about  the  Professorship, 
fearing  that  it  might  make  many  idle  journeys  otherwise. 
The  subject  has  occupied  very  much  of  my  thoughts,  and  I 
cannot  see  my  way  very  clearly.  I  can  say  honestly  that  if  I 
wish  the  place,  it  is  only  because  I  feel  that  I  have  something 
to  say  and  do  there,  for  the  material  sacrifice  would  be  great, 
which  to  me  is  a  very  serious  matter.  But,  on  the  whole,  I 
think  that  if  I  am  not  now  to  offer  myself,  I  should  virtually 
abandon  all  hope  for  the  future,  and  acquiesce  in  a  charge  of 
unsound  opinions  which  is  most  unjust.  If  I  could  secure 
hope  for  the  future,  and  protest  against  false  judgment  in  any 
other  way,  I  should  most  gladly  do  so,  but  unless  I  can,  I 
feel  that  I  ought  to  be  ready  to  make  the  sacrifice  which  the 
chance  of  success  involves.  You  will  see  that  I  am  not 
sanguine  or  careful  for  the  issue,  and  if  you,  knowing  my 
reasons,  think  I  should  be  more  wise  in  waiting  still  longer,  I 
shall  thankfully  acquiesce  in  your  judgment.  My  fear  is  lest 
I  may  allow  purely  personal  and  family  considerations  to 
influence  me  when  I  owe  a  debt  to  Truth.  As  I  have  said 
before,  you,  I  think,  can  do  more  good  where  you  are,  and  you 
are  in  Cambridge,  and  I  should  deeply  regret  seeing  you  away 
from  your  Tutorship. 

I  shall  be  in  no  hurry  to  send  in  my  name,  and  I  shall 
wait  to  know  your  opinion  as  to  my  grounds  for  standing. 
However  the  matter  may  end,  I  shall  feel  quite  satisfied. 

HARROW,  %th  October  1861. 

My  dear  Lightfoot — We  have  in  part  misunderstood  one 
another,  I  think,  but  the  misunderstanding  tends  on  the  whole 
to  clearer  after -views.  Personally,  as  I  have  said,  there  is 
no  situation  in  the  world  which  I  should  (if  I  dare  indulge  a 
wish)  more  covet  than  a  theological  professorship  at  Cam 
bridge.  So  far  from  being  indifferent,  I  am  perhaps  so  eager 
as  to  distrust  my  instincts.  Yet  I  cannot  say  that  I  should 
not  prefer  it  five  years  hence — if  one  may  look  forward.  I 

220         LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

am  only  not  prepared  to  say  for  ever  farewell  to  the  hope 
which  has  hitherto  been  cherished  since  I  was  capable  of 
feeling  it. 

Thus  much  of  myself.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  I  cannot 
but  fancy  that  you  may  have  some  wishes  pointing  to  an  un 
shackled  position  at  Cambridge.  If  so,  I  heartily  accept 
your  wishes  as  deciding  my  choice.  We  both  wish  to  have 
our  judgment  decided  by  circumstances,  and  such  a  circum 
stance  I  should  welcome  at  once  as  deciding  me.  When  I 
say  welcome  it  is  a  true  word.  I  assumed  that  you  found  as 
complete  a  prospect  of  happiness  in  your  Tutorship  as  I  knew 
that  you  found  in  it  a  useful  work.  What  you  say  now  makes 
me  doubt  this,  and  the  slightest  confirmation  of  my  suspicions 
will  be  sufficient  to  end  all  suspense. 

These  delays  will  not,  I  think,  be  any  prejudice  to  either 
of  us.  Any  one  who  cares  may  know  that  one  of  us  will  be 
a  candidate.  I  have  made  no  secret  of  my  own  doubts  here. 

HARROW,  iqth  October  1861. 

My  dear  Lightfoot — As  far  as  I  am  concerned,  I  am 
entirely  and  honestly  in  earnest.  There  is  no  doubt,  as  far 
as  I  can  learn,  that  you  have  a  better  chance,  and  I  should 
in  sincerity  rejoice  more  in  your  success  than  in  my  own. 
Only  if  it  could  be  shown  that  I  ought  to  come  forward  to 
represent  a  principle  (to  "  protest  "  in  my  old  unhappy  phrase) 
could  I  be  willing  to  do  so.  This  is,  I  am  satisfied,  impossible. 
A  resident  only  would  be  able  to  contend  against  an  Arch 
deacon,  and  I  am  sure  that  I  should  be  opposed  strongly  on 
party  grounds,  which  you  would  not  be.  Your  generosity 
again  is  leading  you  to  overrate  my  chances,  which  I  never 
overrated  myself. 

I  am  indeed  quite  clear.  If  you  like  to  defer  your  own 
decision  for  the  occurrence  of  any  impossible  chance,  let  it 
be  so,  but  I  have  mentioned  here  quite  openly  what  my 
decision  is. 

It  is  RIGHT,  I  am  sure. 

iv  HARROW  221 

HARROW,  2%tk  October  1861. 

My  dear  Lightfoot — My  joy  at  the  tidings  which  you  sent 
me  yesterday  was  the  greater  because  all  I  heard  from  Cam 
bridge  tended  to  extinguish  hope.  Now,  however,  I  do  not 
despair  of  the  University.  ...  I  repeat  what  I  said  from  the 
first,  that  my  only  wish  was  that  some  one  should  fill  the  place 
who  would  speak  what  he  believed,  and  believe  what  his 
conscience  and  reason  dictated.  This  wish  is  wholly  fulfilled. 

It  only  remains  to  wish  you,  as  I  do  with  all  my  heart, 
every  blessing  in  the  prosecution  of  your  work,  than  which  I 
know  none  nobler  or  more  promising. — Ever  yours  affection 
ately,  BROOKE  F.  WESTCOTT. 

The  following  extracts  from  letters  to  Mr.  Hort  deal 
with  the  same  matter : — 

HARROW,  ^of/t  September  1861. 

.  .  .  The  thought  of  the  Hulsean  has  occupied  me  very 
much.  It  would  be  a  very  great  material  loss,  which,  with  a 
large  young  family,  I  can  hardly  bear,  but  then  I  think  that 
I  ought  to  be  ready  to  do  what  I  can  at  Cambridge ;  and  I 
am  the  more  anxious,  perhaps,  because  I  am  supposed  to 
"Germanise."  I  have  written  to  Lightfoot  and  wait  his 
answer.  What  do  you  counsel?  I  am  quite  free,  I  hope, 
from  ambitious  views.  I  only  wish  not  to  be  moved  by 
selfishness  on  either  side.  . 

HARROW,  ityh  October  1861. 

...  I  could  well  interpret  your  silence,  and  now  that 
my  decision  was  made  it  was  a  great  comfort  to  have  your 
support,  and  that  of  Mayor's  letter.  The  intrigue  seems 
very  discreditable  to  the  University,  and  I  can  hardly  under 
stand  's  motives,  who  ought  to  know  better.  How 
ever,  I  will  not  despair  of  Lightfoot  and  the  final  triumph 
of  Truth. 

222          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 
To  Mr.  Wickenden  he  says  :— 

HARROW,  26tk  October  1861. 

:  .  .  I  was  much  occupied  with  anxious  thoughts  about 
the  possible  duty  of  offering  myself  for  the  Hulsean  Professor 
ship  at  Cambridge.  I  had  little  wish,  and  no  hope,  for 
success,  but  I  was  inclined  to  protest  against  the  imputations 
of  heresy  and  the  like  which  have  been  made  against  me. 
However,  after  careful  consultation  with  Lightfoot,  we  decided 
that  he  should  stand  and  not  I.  The  election  is  just  over, 

and  I  fear  the  worst.     It  seems  that has  busied  himself 

to  secure  the  exclusion  of  Lightfoot  or  me  as  "unsafe"  men, 
and  at  the  last  he  succeeded  in  persuading to  come  for 
ward,  who,  as  he  has  never  paid  any  attention  to  theology, 
has  (of  course)  no  prejudices.  The  feeling  in  Cambridge, 

when  I  last  heard,  was  that would  be  elected  by  private 

influence.  If  this  has  proved  to  be  the  case,  the  University 
is  sadly  disgraced.  For  my  own  part,  it  was  a  great  relief  to 
be  left  quietly  here.  With  our  host  of  little  children  it  would 
have  been  a  hard  struggle  to  live  at  Cambridge ;  yet  to  live  is 
not  the  end  of  living.  .  .  . 

Thus  vanished  the  prospect  of  a  move  to  Cam 
bridge  ;  and  it  was  willed  that  my  father  should  con 
tinue  his  work  at  Harrow  for  another  period  of  nine 

The  following  letters  belong  to  the  first  nine  years 
of  his  Harrow  residence  : — 


HARROW,  7th  May  [1852], 

...  On  Tuesday  I  went  a  most  delightful  walk.  I  found 
a  really  green  lane,  and  the  progress  the  trees  have  made 
during  the  last  few  days  is  wonderful.  One  field  attracted  me 
from  a  long  distance  by  the  display  of  cowslips,  and  as  I  was 

iv  HARROW  223 

enjoying  the  sunshine  and  the  shining  of  "  earth's  stars,"  a 
little  bird  flew  from  the  hedge  just  by  me,  and  as  I  carefully 
looked  I  saw  another  sitting  on  her  nest,  faithful  and  yet 
fearing.  How  brightly  her  little  black  eyes  glanced  at  me ; 
and  how  closely  she  brooded  over  her  charge !  You  may 
easily  fancy  that  I  took  care  not  to  frighten  her,  and  I  felt 
quite  joyous  to  be  near  one  so  true  and  loving.  Even  now  I 
can  see  the  twinkling  of  her  eyes  as  she  followed  mine.  Very 
little  things  gladden  us.  Just  before  I  had  picked  up  a  nest 
which  had  been  robbed,  and  looked  at  it  wistfully ;  what  a 
contrast  it  made  with  that  still  guarded  by  love !  .  .  . 

HARROW,  i8//z  Sunday  after  Trinity,  1852. 

.  .  .  To-day  I  have  again  taken  up  Tracts  for  the  Times 
and  Dr.  Newman.  Don't  tell  me  that  he  will  do  me  harm. 
At  least  to-day  he  will,  has  done  me  good,  and  had  you  been 
here  I  should  have  asked  you  to  read  his  solemn  words  to  me. 
My  purchase  has  already  amply  repaid  me.  I  think  I  shall 
choose  a  volume  for  one  of  my  Christmas  companions. 

My  thoughts  have  chiefly  run  in  the  direction  of  a  saying 
of  Origen's,  which  I  must  quote  for  you.  He  is  speaking  of 
the  Transfiguration,  and  he  adds :  "  The  Word  has  different 
forms,  manifesting  Himself  to  each  as  it  is  expedient  for  him, 
and  to  no  one  is  He  manifested  in  a  higher  degree  than  the 
subject  of  the  revelation  can  comprehend."  I  wish  I  could 
give  you  any  notion  of  the  charms  of  the  original ;  yet  you 
will  find  out  its  meaning,  for  the  thought  must  be  familiar.  It 
seems  from  the  Gospels  as  if  our  Blessed  Lord  even  hid  Him 
self  from  the  unbelieving  in  mercy  and  love  lest  they  should 
aggravate  their  guilt ;  and  so  conversely  to  each  one  of  us  He 
unfolds  Himself  more  and  more  clearly  as  we  strive  painfully 
and  prayerfully  to  penetrate  into  that  which  He  sets  before 
us.  .  .  . 

To  F.  J.  A.  HORT,  ESQ. 

HARROW,  \tyh  July  [1852]. 

My  dear  Hort — To  plunge  at  once  in  medias  res,  and  to 
defend  myself  from  your  charge,  do  you  think  that 

224          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

is  ever  used  in  the  New  Testament  in  the  sense  of  the  Eng 
lish  "  mystery  "  ?  I  think  not ;  but  just  now  I  cannot  collect 
my  notions  on  its  usage.  I  should,  however,  regard  i  Cor. 
v.  i  (sic) l  as  giving  the  right  type  of  its  meaning. 

You  must  not  praise  me  prematurely.  At  present  Maurice  is 
unread,  for  I  have  but  little  time  on  my  hands.  I  cannot  even 
promise  when  I  shall  satisfy  you  in  that  respect.  Perhaps  I 
am  afraid  still  of  adopting  what  I  should  find  out  for  myself. 

One  book  lately  has  interested  me  very  much — the  Life  of 
Wordsworth.  Much  as  I  value  his  poems,  I  cannot  love  the 
man.  He  seems  to  me  a  very  English  Goethe.  How  could 
he  write  so  much  without  the  impress  of  Christianity  ?  How 
could  he  speak  of  "  Nature  "  as  he  does  if  he  had  felt  that  Trao-a 
KTICTIS  travaileth  and  groaneth  with  man  for  his  new  birth  and 
its  own  restoration.  But  this  is  not  all.  His  egotism  is 
wholly  Goethe -like.  You  probably  know  his  letter  to  Lady 
Beaumont  in  defence  of  his  poems ;  and  do  you  not  think 
that  there  is  much  in  it  unworthy  of  him  ?  We  can  all  thank 
fully  acknowledge  all  that  he  and  Goethe  have  done  for  us, 
but  need  we  love  them  ?  .  .  .  How  much  I  should  like  to 
talk  with  you  about  boy-nature.  Sometimes  I  am  tempted  to 
define  a  boy  as  "  a  being  in  whom  the  idea  of  honour  exists 
only  potentially."  Truly  one  grows  sad  often  at  what  experi 
ence  teaches,  and  now  I  begin  to  understand  Arnold's  terrible 
words.  Will  you  accept  this  wretched  apology  for  a  note  ? — 
Ever,  my  dear  Hort,  yours  very  affectionately, 


To  E.  W.  BENSON,  ESQ. 

HARROW,  24^  September  [1852]. 

My  dear  Benson — Shall  I  frankly  confess  to  you  that  I 
have  long  felt  more  than  half  angry  with  you  ?  It  was  only 
late  and  casually  that  I  heard  you  were  at  Rugby,  and,  per 
haps  unreasonably,  I  had  hoped  to  hear  from  you  that  your 
Cambridge  life  was  ended.  But  now  I  have  told  you  this,  let 
me  congratulate  you  most  heartily  on  the  work  that  lies  before 
you.  I  know  that  you  have  long  looked  on  Rugby  with 
1  ii.  I,  iv.  i? 

iv  HARROW  225 

intense  affection,  and  may  you  be  blessed  wholly  in  your 
endeavours  to  make  it  like  the  ideal  you  cherish.  I  am  very 
ignorant  of  the  details  of  your  system,  but  I  suppose  it  is  like 
our  own ;  and  in  that  case  I  can  fully  understand  how  you  will 
enjoy  the  variety  of  reading  and  intellect  and  development 
with  which  one  is  brought  into  contact.  My  own  satisfaction 
at  my  own  position  is  as  great  as  ever.  .  .  . 

You  kindly  ask  about  my  reading.  It  goes  on  as  well,  on 
the  whole,  as  it  did  at  Cambridge.  I  have  written  much  on 
the  Epistles,  and  I  hope  to  get  the  essay  finished  before  very 
long  ;  but  to-day  I  have  received  a  very  heavy  packet  of  Mait- 
land  exercises  which  will  cause  a  break  in  my  own  pursuits  for 
a  little  time. 

In  studying  the  Apokalypse,  have  you  paid  any  great  atten 
tion  to  the  application  of  the  theory  of  a  "  double  sense  "  ? 
It  has  always  seemed  to  me  absolutely  necessary  to  maintain 
this  for  the  right  understanding  of  the  book.  But  on  this 
point  my  views  are  perhaps  extreme. 

This  note  has  been  written  under  the  most  adverse  circum 
stances.  I  was  anxious  to  write  soon  to  assure  you  how 
often  I  have  thought  of  you  and  your  work.  All  kind 
remembrances  to  Evans. — Ever  very  affectionately  yours, 


The  work  on  the  Epistles  mentioned  in  the  above 
letter  is  The  Apostolic  Harmony^  which  my  father  had 
projected  as  a  companion  to  The  Gospel  Harmony ',  but 
did  not  publish. 

(On  the  Funeral  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington) 

HARROW,  igtb  November  [1852]. 

It  is  quite  impossible,  my  dearest  Mary,  to  give  you  any 
idea  of  what  I  saw  and  felt  yesterday — and  of  what  I  did  not 
feel.  The  day  was  fine  after  sunrise,  and  outwardly  there 
was  nothing  to  mar  one's  pleasure.  I  started  at  about  five  in 

VOL.  I  Q 

226          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

the  morning  with  some  friends  in  a  fly,  and  when  we  reached 
town  the  streets  were  already  alive  with  footmen  and  horse 
men  •  cabs  and  omnibuses,  which  plied  for  a  guinea  and  a 
shilling  respectively.  We  reached  Ludgate  Hill  at  about 
half-past  seven,  and  then  I  left  my  friends  struggling  with  the 
crowd,  and  passed  up  Newgate  Street  to  the  north  door  of  St. 
Paul's.  The  entrances  were  not  open,  but  as  the  rain  had 
now  ceased  and  the  sun  was  fairly  risen,  we  stood  waiting  for 
about  an  hour  with  tolerable  good-humour,  which,  in  my  case 
at  least,  was  greatly  increased  by  my  endeavour  to  imitate 
the  pleasant  zeal  of  a  policeman's  endurance,  who  cheered  us 
with  continual  assurances  that  the  door  would  soon  be  open. 
So  in  truth  it  was  opened  at  last,  and  we  all  rushed  in,  and 
were  lost  in  a  maze  of  wooden  supports  and  a  sea  of  black 
cloth.  I  ran  recklessly  up  the  first  staircase  I  saw,  and  found 
myself  a  member  of  the  Corporation  of  London.  This  not 
being  my  true  character,  I  effected  a  retreat,  and  remembering 
that  I  had  to  go  to  the  South  Transept,  I  followed  the  clue  of 
a  labyrinthine  set  of  passages  and  gained  the  South.  Here  I 
took  the  staircase  which  was  pointed  out  to  me,  only,  how 
ever,  to  be  ranged  among  the  peers ;  and  feeling  that  I  was 
no  more  a  bishop  than  an  alderman,  by  the  help  of  a  good- 
natured  attendant  I  scrambled  over  a  low  partition  and 
gained  my  true  seat,  which  was  as  good  as  it  could  be,  in  the 
centre  of  the  lowest  gallery,  commanding  a  full  view  of  the  in 
terior,  and  directly  in  front  of  the  place  of  interment.  It  was 
now  about  eight  o'clock,  and  the  Cathedral  was  soon  full. 
Till  half-past  twelve  we  spent  our  time  in  watching  successive 
arrivals.  Sir  C.  Napier  fixed  my  attention  more  than  any 
one.  I  can  see  his  fine  head  and  snowy  hair  and  beard  even 
now,  and  it  was  a  touching  sight  to  see  him  totter  along.  I 
noticed  the  Bishop  of  Manchester  and  Chevalier  Bunsen,  who 
for  different  reasons  interested  me  by  their  manner  and 
occupations.  Every  one  seemed  tacitly  to  assume  that  we 
were  in  a  churchyard  and  not  in  a  church,  and  behaved 
accordingly.  The  deputation  from  Cambridge,  I  grieve  to 
say,  wore  their  caps,  with  one  or  two  exceptions.  The 
officers  generally  wore  their  hats  or  helmets.  The  barristers 
improvised  caps  for  the  occasion  by  tying  knots  at  the  four 
corners  of  their  handkerchiefs,  like  this ;  and  the  M.P.'s 


HARROW  227 

varied  the  fashion,   like  this.      Ladies  ate  sandwiches,  and 

gentlemen  drank  wine.     All  this,  doubtless,  resulted  from  the 

length  of  time  we  had  to  wait  and  from  the  coldness  of  the 

morning.      Still,  it  had  a  somewhat  unpleasant  effect,  and 

one's  organ  of  reverence  was  diminished.      Time,  however, 

wore  on,  and  at  length  a  flourish  of  trumpets  announced  the 

arrival  of  the  procession.     By  this  time  the  windows  of  the 

Dome  were  partly  darkened,  and  the  line  of  gaslights  which 

ran  along  the  cornice  and  round  the  inner  gallery  of  the  Dome 

glowed  like  a  glorious  ray  of  sunshine  all  round  the  building. 

Every  part,   far  away  to  the  roof,  was  crowded  with  eager 

faces.     The  deep  mourning  and  sombre  dresses  were  relieved 

by  the  bright  uniforms,  and  it  was  a  grand  sight  when  the 

Chapter  and  the  white-robed  choir — in  number  about  200 — 

walked  to  the  west  door  to  meet  the  cortege.     That  moment 

rewarded  one  for  hours  of  headache  and  expectation.     One 

by  one  the  great  people  came — Speaker  and  mace,   Lord 

Mayor  and  sword,  Judges,  Lord  Chancellor  and  mace,  Prince 

Albert.     Then  there  was  a  long  pause.     At  last  voices  were 

heard  far  off  chanting  the  opening  verses  of  the  service,  and 

nearer  and  nearer  they  came,  louder  and  louder  grew  the 

anthem,  and  as  they  came  again  round  the  Dome  the  bier  was 

with  them,  and  on  it  the  coffin  and  the  marshal's  hat.    Before 

it   was  borne  the  coronet  and  baton.      Every  one  seemed 

moved  now,  and,  indeed,  how  could  it  be  otherwise.      We 

thought  who  lay  there,  and  what  he  had  been,  and  what  he 

was,  and  what  he  would  be.     The  solemn  music  continued. 

The  coffin  was  transferred  to  a  stage  erected  in  the  centre. 

The  pall-bearers  and  old  friends  grouped  round  it,  bearing 

banners — and  nobler  ensigns  still    in    their  white   hair  and 

shattered  forms.     The  Dead  March  was  played,  and  silently 

and  slowly  the  stage  descended.     The  march  was  finished, 

and  now  no  more  was  to  be  seen  of  him  who  was  the  Duke 

.  of  Wellington.     All  had  vanished — coffin,  coronet,  and  baton. 

A  marshal  proclaimed  the  names  and  titles  he  had  borne ; 

his  steward  broke  his  staff,  and  it  was  cast  into  the  grave. 

Again  the  music  of  many  voices  rose.     And  last  came  the 

glorious  Chorale  from   the  St.  Paul.      Then  the   Bishop  of 

London  gave  his  blessing,  and  all  was  over. 

228          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

HARROW,  29^  September  1853. 

Dear  Mr.  Macmillan — You  must  allow  me  to  thank  you 
again  for  speaking  of  Neuss'  book.  The  new  edition  was 
published  in  two  parts — the  first  part  at  the  beginning  of  this 
year,  and  the  second  quite  lately.  The  old  edition  I  never 
saw,  though  it  was  known  to  me  by  name. 

I  like  the  appearance  of  Mr.  Hardwick's  book  very  much, 
and  I  wish  that  I  was  able  to  give  a  judgment  worth  anything 
upon  its  merits.  I  only  trust  that  its  successors  may  be  as 
good.  I  hope  to  send  you  the  Introduction  on  the  Canon 
before  long.  It  is  in  the  process  of  "  writing  out,"  but 
necessarily  goes  on  slowly. — Ever  very  truly  yours, 


I  do  not  think  that  I  have  thanked  you  for  the  copy  of 
the  review  in  the  Eclectic,  which  you  kindly  sent  to  me.  I 
shall  be  glad  to  have  any  suggestions  for  the  improvement  of 
the  Introduction  to  the  Gospels,  and  most  glad  to  receive  any 
corrections  of  mistakes  or  faults. 

To  F.  J.  A.  HORT,  ESQ. 

HARROW,  izth  October  1853. 

...  As  to  our  proposed  recension  of  the  New  Testament 
text,  our  object  would  be,  I  suppose,  to  prepare  a  text  for 
common  and  general  use — in  schools,  for  instance.  With  such 
an  end  in  view,  would  it  not  be  best  to  introduce  only  certain 
emendations  into  the  received  text,  and  to  note  in  the  margin 
such  as  seem  likely  or  noticeable — after  Griesbach's  manner  ? 
Such  a  book  would,  I  think,  do  great  good.  The  question 
of  orthography  is  difficult.  Do  you  think  that  it  is  worth 
while  to  desert  the  later  spelling  in  a  book  for  general  use  ? 
No  one  would  print  a  Bible  now  with  the  orthography  of 
James  First's  time  except  as  a  literary  curiosity.  The  matter 
might  be  discussed  in  the  preface  once  for  all.  But  here 
again  I  shall  be  glad  to  know  your  own  notions.  I  feel  most 

iv  HARROW  229 

keenly  the  disgrace  of  circulating  what  I  feel  to  be  falsified 
copies  of  Holy  Scripture,  and  am  most  anxious  to  provide 
something  to  replace  them.  This  cannot  be  any  text  resting 
solely  on  our  own  judgment,  even  if  we  were  not  too  in 
experienced  to  make  one  •  but  it  must  be  supported  by  a  clear 
and  obvious  preponderance  of  evidence.  The  margin  will 
give  ample  scope  for  our  own  ingenuity  or  principles.  In 
the  arrangement  of  paragraphs  I  think  we  might  follow  our 
own  judgment  entirely.  I  think  that  I  should  use  Lloyd's 
Testament  as  the  basis  both  for  text  and  division,  as  my  wish 
would  be  to  leave  the  popular  received  text  except  where  it  is 
clearly  wrong.  But  on  all  this,  as  I  have  already  said,  I 
shall  be  glad  to  know  your  opinion.  But  pray  think  how 
utterly  ignorant  and  prejudiced  even  well-informed  men  are 
•on  the  text  of  the  New  Testament.  I  dare  not  trust  myself 
to  use  names. 

TO   THE    REV.    J.    F.    WlCKENDEN 

HARROW,  itfh  November  [1854]. 

.  .  .  Have  you  entered  into  the  Maurice  controversy  ?  I 
only  hope  it  may  pass  away  quietly.  At  the  first  onset 
we  always  strike  blindly ;  and  much  evil  would  result  from 
the  public  discussion  of  the  moot  points  just  now.  It  is  well, 
I  believe,  that  they  have  been  named ;  and  it  will  be  well  for 
men  to  get  familiarised  with  them.  Then  at  length  they  may 
debate  if  they  please.  This  is  a  strange  symptom  of  belief 
or  disbelief — that  Mr.  Maurice's  views  on  the  Atonement 
seem  to  have  called  forth  comparatively  little  criticism. 

What  are  we  to  think  of  the  new  contest  between  the 
Crescent  and  the  Cross  ?  What  would  our  forefathers  say 
to  us  ?  A  renegade  Christian  for  Commander  and  the  two 
greatest  Christian  powers  for  allies.  Who  then  shall  malign 
Islam  ?  But  are  not  the  Greeks  indeed  dead  ? 

HARROW,  >]th  December  [1854]. 

My  dear   Frederic — Harrow  is   dissolved — the  school,  I 
mean,  and  not  the  hill,  which  holds  out  still  against  the  rain 

230         LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

most  valiantly.  Gould  the  noisy  and  Marshall  the  unready 
are  gone.  Sandars  the  interrogative  and  Burdon  the 
demonstrative  are  gone.  Meek  the  cold  -handed  is  gone. 
Pretor  the  clear-headed  is  gone.  I  too  the  much-scheming 
am  going. 

12s  €<f>a@'  *  *   ot  8*  apa  TOV  paXa  /xei/  K\VOV  r)8'  i^d 
aT\f>a  8*  eTrciTa  TTCTOVTO  /cara  TrroXw  2  evpvdyviav 
0e(r7re(T6>7  Kpavyrj  '  vftapayei  8e  re  8utjJLaB 
e£  «rav,  e/cTrpcTrees,  ox^Kecrcriv  lot/cores  ca 
X/OIKTOS  $'  os  fjud\a  Tracrav  6fj,r)\iKir)v  €K€Ka(TTO 
re  Kavyr)  re*   ^>7;A.a^  8'  eVer*  a6€ 
T€  veoov  Trai/Twv  /^ey   a/owrros 

8    apa  TT/JWTO?  €<j>avOrj, 
b  8e//,as, 

1  The  Headmaster  on  last  morning  (Schol.  Harr.). 
2  Harrow  emphasis  gratia. 

This  is  a  Homeric  fragment.  I  hope  you  can  scan  it ;  I 
won't  attempt  to  do  so.  The  MS.  is  sadly  defaced,  but  I  can 
see  some  allusion  to  the  wasp  jersey  of  our  house,  and  a  good 
scholiast  could  doubtless  explain  it  all. 

Even  now  I  have  scarcely  realised  your  disappearance.  I 
never  likened  Moorsom  to  a  fairy,  but  he  certainly  carried 
you  off  in  a  fairy-like  fashion.  I  am  not  quite  sure  that  I 
will  pardon  you  till  I  have  a  full  account  of  the  "super 
natural  "  phenomenon  which  must  have  accompanied  your 
evanishment.  It  is  but  just  to  say  that  I  did  not  smell  the 
odour  of  hempseed  in  the  house.  I  am  sure  the  Greek  lines 
will  be  as  good  as  another  whole  sheet  of  words.  Fancy  that 
they  form  a  paper  in  a  little  room 

Pray  excuse  a  very  hasty,  wild,  rambling  note. 

"  Remember  "  us,  I  need  not  say. — Ever  believe  me,  very 
affectionately  yours,  BROOKE  F.  WESTCOTT. 

iv  HARROW  231 


TRINITY  COLLEGE,  Good  Friday,  1855. 

This  morning  I  went  to  hear  the  Hulsean  Lecturer.  He 
preached  on  the  Atonement.  But  who  is  equal  to  such  a 
subject?  All  he  said  was  very  good,  but  then  he  did  not 
enter  into  the  great  difficulties  of  the  notion  of  sacrifice  and 
vicarious  punishment.  To  me  it  is  always  most  satisfactory 
to  regard  the  Christian  as  in  Christ — absolutely  one  with 
Him,  and  then  he  does  what  Christ  has  done:  Christ's 
actions  become  his,  and  Christ's  life  and  death  in  some 
sense  his  life  and  death.  Don't  you  think  that  this  is  the 
real  answer  to  the  difficulties  ?  or  do  I  not  make  myself 
clear  ? 


K)thjuly  [1855]. 

My  dear  Mr.  Macmillan  —  I  am  growing  anxious  to 
have  the  last  sheets  from  the  printers.  Our  examination 
begins  next  week,  and  I  shall  be  hard  pressed  to  correct 
them.  Will  you  forward  to  them  the  adjoined  addendum  to 
be  inserted  in  its  proper  place  among  the  others. 

I  hope,  if  all  be  well,  to  make  good  progress  with 
the  revision  of  my  old  Essay.1  My  present  scheme  is  the 
following : — 

Introduction — Nearly  the  same. 

Chap.  I.  Relation  of  Evangelical  Literature  to  the 

first  age. 

Chap.  II.  The  special  History  of  the  Fourth  Can 

onical  Gospel. 

Chap.  III.     =  (I.). 

Chap.  IV.     =  (II.). 

Chap.  V.       =  (III.). 

Chap.  VI.     =  (IV.). 

1  Elements  of  the  Gospel  Harmony,  which  was  at  this  time  being  shaped 
into  An  Introduction  to  the  Study  of  the  Gospels. 

232          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

Chap.  VII.       The  Parables  and  Miracles  as  wholes  (old 

App.  C.,  D.). 
Chap.  VIII.  -  (V.). 
Chap.  IX.         Relation  of  Fourth  Gospel  to  Apocryphal 

and  Heretical  Gospels. 
Appendix  A      (extended). 

Appendix  B   )  The  facts  of  our  Our  Lord's  Life  implied 
Appendix  C  j      in  Epistles. 

I  shall  be  very  glad  of  any  suggestions,  corrections,  etc., 
before  1  begin  to  work. — In  great  haste,  ever  yours  sincerely, 


HARROW,  zythjuly  [1855]. 

My  dear  Mr.  Macmillan — I  have  added  one  or  two 
names  to  the  list  for  presentation  copies.1  I  shall  be  glad  if 
you  will  send  on  my  account — I  mean,  from  my  copies — a 
copy  to  Mr.  Scott,  Mr.  Davies,  and  Mr.  Vaughan.  I  wish  I 
could  send  to  more  of  my  Cambridge  friends,  but  I  have 
many  home  claims. 

You  will  perhaps  kindly  see  to  the  binding  of  the  presenta 
tion  copy  for  the  Bishop  of  Manchester.  I  liked  the  binding 
of  my  father's  copy  last  time  very  much,  if  you  remember 
that.  But  I  know  that  I  may  trust  to  your  taste. 

Though  the  work  has  been  very  wearying  and  disjointed, 
I  seem  to  feel  now  like  one  who  has  just  lost  a  friend  ready 
to  talk  at  every  moment  and  fill  up  all  the  idle  moments  of 
one's  life ;  but  I  suppose  that  I  shall  soon  find  some  new 
friend  to  fill  up  the  place  of  the  old  one. 

TO   THE    REV.    J.    B.    LlGHTFOOT 

HARROW,  1st  September  [1855]. 

My  dear  Lightfoot — We  reached  home  only  yesterday 
evening  after  a  month's  sojourn  at  Filey,  or  I  should  not  so 
long  have  delayed  to  send  you  a  copy  of  my  poor  long- 

1  Of  the  essay  on  the  Canon  of  the  New  Testament. 

iv  HARROW  233 

delayed  Essay.  You  know  how  much  it  owes  to  your  hospi 
tality,  and  I  can  only  hope  that  it  may  seem  in  any  way 
worthy  of  a  connexion  with  Neville's  Court. 

I  am  now  fairly  engaged  on  a  new  edition  of  my  old 
Essay.  Of  course  it  will  be  much  changed,  but  I  hope  to 
retain  whatever  there  is  of  good  in  the  first  edition.  Mean 
while  I  am  anxious  to  learn  all  I  can  of  the  Jewish  (?)  litera 
ture  of  the  Apostolic  age,  and  you  can  tell  me  better  than 
any  one  else  where  to  look  for  some  account  of  it.  ...  You 
would  have  admired  my  geological  diligence  during  the  past 
four  weeks.  I  became  a  determined  stone-breaker,  and  have 
gained  a  fair  knowledge  of  the  Upper  Oolite  strata  of  York 
shire,  and  the  shale  beds  of  Gristhorpe. 

While  thinking  still  of  Philo,  I  must  say  how  much  I  have 
been  struck  with  the  ability  of  Jowett's  book.  Of  course  I 
must  wholly  dissent  from  his  views  of  Scripture  language,  and 
all  the  deductions  which  he  draws  from  its  uncertainty.  But 
notwithstanding  this,  it  is  a  book  of  greater  thought,  and  more 
real  wisdom  than  any  which  I  have  read  for  years.  Don't 
you  think  so?  I  wish  he  were  not  so  cold,  but  one  must 
pardon  manner.  I  should  say  that  I  am  speaking  of  the 
Essays,  and  not  of  the  Commentary,  which  I  like  very  much 
less.  What  a  contrast  there  is  between  Jowett  and  Stanley. 
But  I  must  not  scribble  more  now. 

TO    THE    REV.    J.    F.    WlCKENDEN 

HARROW,  i$tA  September  [1855?]. 

.  .  .  Will  you  not  excuse  me  if  I  decline  to  attempt  to 
settle  any  chronological  point  in  the  Gospels  ?  The  data  are 
far  too  uncertain  to  give  more  than  a  probable  conclusion ; 
and  in  many  cases  the  order  of  time  is  wholly — hopelessly 
uncertain.  How  much  I  should  like  to  have  been  in  some 
closet  to  listen  to  your  discussion  of  aldtv.  What  unorthodox 
groans  would  have  issued  from  the  recess  quarter?  How 
certainly  I  should  have  been  proclaimed  heretic  !  I  do  hope 
you  furnished  the  good  people  with  a  Bruder.  .  .  . 

234          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

HARROW,  i6tk  December  1855. 

My  dear  Mamma — What  an  inexcusably  bad  correspondent 
you  must  think  me.  I  feel  almost  bound  to  give  you  an 
account  of  the  way  in  which  I  have  spent  all  my  time  since 
you  sent  your  long  note.  .  .  . 

This  evening  for  the  first  time  I  am  quiet  and  alone. 
Louey  and  Tiny  are,  I  hope,  safe  and  well  at  Bristol.  Katie 
keeps  me  company,  and  is  wonderfully  well.  She  paid  me  a 
visit  after  dinner,  and  was  lost  in  deep  contemplation  of  her 
solitary  importance.  You  may  fancy  that  I  have  grown  rather 
impatient  at  being  kept  here.  We  do  hope  to  leave  on 
Wednesday;  but  on  Friday  a  note  came,  in  which  Mr.  S. 
objected  to  his  son  leaving  so  soon.  I  answered  it  somewhat 
sharply.  Mr.  S.  has  throughout  expressed  very  little  con 
sideration  for  us.  and  I  should  be  sorry  for  him  to  think  that 
it  is  either  a  common  or  an  easy  thing  to  lose  one  week  out 
of  five.  To-morrow  I  suppose  I  shall  hear  from  him  again. 
At  any  rate  Louey  and  Tiny  will  be  with  you  on  Wednesday, 
and  Tiny  will  be  more  amusement  to  you,  I  fancy,  than  any 
thing  else.  You  must  finish  her  alphabet  learning,  for  her 
notions  as  to  many  letters  are  singularly  indefined ;  moreover, 
she  still  confounds  (wilfully,  I  fear)  the  bear  and  the  lion,  and 
thereby  favours  the  Russians.  .  .  . 

My  solitary  housekeeping  seems  quite  strange  to  me.  I 
have  not  been  alone  before,  and  have  lost  most  of  my 
bachelor  independence,  and  have  a  tendency  to  forget  the 
sugar  in  my  tea  or  some  other  equally  important  matter. 
Perhaps  it  is  fortunate  that  my  dinner  is  brought  to  me  with 
out  any  order  of  mine,  or  I  might  forget  that. 

Love  to  all,  and  all  good  wishes,  which  I  shall  hope  to 
repeat  in  person.  Ever  your  most  affectionate  son. 


To  THE  REV.  F.  J.  A.  HORT 

HARROW,  6th  April  [1859]. 

My  dear  Hort — I  cannot  believe  that  we  differ  about 
the  "ideal  Christian,"  or  the  Christian  ideally  rather.  It 

iv  HARROW  235 

must  be  some  clumsiness  in  my  way  of  expressing  myself.  I 
quote  all  the  passages  which  you  quote  in  support  of  my 
view,  and  especially  notice  the  aorists.  Have  you  not  mis 
understood  my  use  of  the  word  "  ideal  "  ?  Each  Christian, 
so  far  as  he  is  a  Christian,  is  an  ideal  Christian,  or  rather  is 
such  by  partaking  in  the  iSea.  In  "idea"  he  is  one  with 
Christ,  and  all  that  Christ  did  he  did  in  Christ.  But  the 
work  of  all  life  is  to  realise  this  idea.  I  have  made  an  altera 
tion  in  the  note  to  bring  out  my  meaning  more  clearly,  and 
added  two  of  your  references  and  one  other  which  shows  the 
aorist  in  contrast  with  the  present. 

I  am  obliged  to  write  in  the  midst  of  "Trial,"  for  I  should 
indeed  be  sorry  if  we  differ  on  such  a  point,  which  is  one  of 
my  central  beliefs. — Ever  yours  affectionately, 


I  shall  now  give  you  very  little  more  trouble,  if  any. 
When  will  you  let  me  repay  the  office  ? 

The  above  letter  is  in  reply  to  some  criticisms  of 
Mr.  Hort  on  a  passage  in  my  father's  Characteristics  of 
the  Gospel  Miracles ,  pp.  IO6-IO7.1 

The  following  letter  to  Mr.  Wickenden  refers  to 
the  index  to  the  Introduction  to  the  Study  of  the  Gospels, 
prepared  by  him,  and  to  an  adverse  criticism  of  The 
Characteristics  of  the  Gospel  Miracles,  which  had  ap 
peared  in  the  Literary  Churchman.  It  may  be  re 
marked  in  passing  that  these  Cambridge  sermons  were 
somewhat  severely  handled  by  too  orthodox  critics,  and 
did  not  obtain  a  wide  circulation.  It  was  mainly  on 
their  account,  I  believe,  that  my  father  laboured  under 
the  imputation  of  being  "  unsafe." 

HARROW,  \zth  March  1860. 

My  dear  Frederic — Many,  many  thanks  for  the  great 
trouble  which  you  have  taken ;  many,  many  regrets  for 

1  See  Dr.  Hort's  Life*  i.  407. 

236          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

the  offending  varieties  of  division.  It  is  too  late,  I  fear,  to 
alter  them  in  the  text,  but  you  will,  I  think,  find  all  come 
out  tolerably  clearly  in  the  table  of  contents.  The  correc 
tions  which  you  kindly  send  are  duly  registered.  In  one  or 
two  places  my  meaning  seems  to  have  been  too  obscure,  but 
I  am  rejoiced  to  find  that  there  are  so  few  errors. 

Last  week  I  was  immensely  amused  (ought  I  to  have 
been  ?)  by  a  very  fierce  review  of  the  Cambridge  Sermons  in 
the  Literary  Churchman.  The  writer  "  forbore  to  characterise 
such  writing,"  and  proposed  a  series  of  questions  which  I 
should  have  asked  my  class  at  a  Sunday  School,  with  an  air 
of  the  most  triumphant  refutation.  It  is  strange  that  intelli 
gent  men  should  be  so  very  dull.  If  you  fall  in  the  way  of 
the  paper,  I  should  strongly  recommend  the  article  to  your 
notice,  if  only  that  I  might  ask  you  whether  you  think  my 
meaning  so  enigmatical  as  to  justify  so  bad  a  guess. 

But  I  must  not  write  a  note  now,  much  less  review  reviewers, 
to  whom  I  owe  a  great  debt. 

You  say  nothing  of  yourself. — Ever  yours  affectionately, 


The  following  letter  to  Mr.  Wickenden  also  concerns 
the  Study  of  the  Gospels,  and  work  done  by  my  father 
for  Dr.  Smith's  Dictionary  of  the  Bible  : — 

...  I  feel  very  glad  that  you  were  willing  to  take  so 
much  trouble  in  helping  on  my  work.  Many,  very  many 
thanks ;  but  why  should  I  say  so  ?  You  know  that  I  do 
thank  you  sincerely. 

I  have  ventured  to  put  "St."  for  "S."  as  is  my  constant 
fashion,  and  for  "Mary  S.,"  "Mary  V."  I  never  like  to 
speak  of  St.  Mary.  Don't  scold  me.  Many  thanks  for  the 
correction  on  p.  426,  "seal"  for  "soul."  I  have  written  to 
the  printers,  and  trust  it  may  not  be  too  late.  It  makes 
sense,  unfortunately,  and  perverts  the  sense  of  the  original ; 
but  my  writing  is  terribly  misunderstood.  To  a  note  which  I 
added  to  an  article  on  Judith  in  Dr.  Smith's  Dictionary^  "  the 
theory  of  Volkmar  "  is  converted  into  "  the  story  of  Volkenar." 
This  proof  I  did  not  see  again.  Have  you  seen  the  Diction- 

iv  HARROW  237 

ary  ?  I  have  taken  the  "  Maccabsean  period,"  which  I  found 
extremely  interesting — beginning  with  Alexander  and  ending 
with  Herod  G. — a  tolerably  wide  interpretation  of  the  phrase, 
not  unlike  that  which  Dr.  Stanley  gives  to  Ecclesiastical 
history,  beginning  with  Abraham  ! 

The  following  letter  to  Mr.  Hort,  written  from  East 
bourne  during  the  Easter  holidays  of  1859,  sn°ws  that 
my  father  was  already  at  work  on  St.  John's  Gospel, 
while  not  unmindful  of  the  Greek  Text,  which  even  in 
those  early  days  was  in  the  press  : — 

I  trust  that  you  received  a  note  this  morning  which  has 
relieved  you  from  the  sad  necessity  of  supposing  that  the 
unfortunate  sheet  represented  my  text,  and  not  the  printers'. 
By  what  confusion  I  know  not,  but  both  in  that  and  the 
next  which  I  received  the  printers  have  reversed  nearly  every 
thing.  I  really  feel  quite  grateful  to  you  for  scolding  me 
so  little,  if  you  supposed  that  I  could  have  been  so  perverse. 
Though  I  waver  sometimes,  I  have  some  principles  left.  I 
have  not  had  any  sheets  of  the  Romans  from  you  since  the 

I  have  been  enjoying  extremely  some  work  on  St.  John. 
How,  indeed,  is  it  possible  not  to  enjoy  such  work  ?  Yet 
how  hard  it  is  to  study  the  Gospel  widely  enough  and  yet 
minutely.  Just  now  it  strikes  me  as  a  great  Hebrew  epic. 
The  Hebrew  poetical  character — in  the  highest  sense  of  the 
word — is  very  remarkable,  and  I  do  not  think  that  I  was  ever 
sufficiently  conscious  of  it  before. 

TO   THE    REV.    J.    F.   WlCKENDEN 

HARROW,  22nd  November  1859. 

.  .  .  This  term  has  been  one  of  very  great  anxiety.  Added 
to  other  things  has  been  the  two  months'  suspense  as  to  our 
future  Head.  The  choice  has  been  the  best,  I  think,  possible 
under  the  circumstances.  Butler  is  young,  but  he  has  other 
wise  very  great  qualifications  for  the  work,  and  comes  with 

238         LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

the  loudest  welcomes  from  Harrovians  of  every  date.  At  least 
we  are  secure  from  violent  changes  of  all  kinds.1 

But  you  libel  our  house.  Externally  it  is  the  boldest 
mediaeval  pile,  with  gables  and  pointed  windows,  and  Flemish 
steps,  and  blue  brickwork,  and  stone  facings,  and  everything 
else  which  can  raise  a  promise  which  the  interior  belies.  The 
interior,  if  by  no  means  mediaeval,  contains  square,  comfort 
able  rooms  which  we  enjoy.  The  boys'  quarter  is  very 
convenient  and  well  arranged,  and  you  will  not,  I  hope, 
notice  such  disturbing  noises  as  you  anticipate.  When  will 
you  come  and  make  trial  ? 

On  All  Saints'  Day  I  met  Benson  and  his  wife  at  the 
consecration  of  a  church  which  Cubitt  has  just  built.  It  was 
a  delightful  meeting.  I  wish  that  you  could  have  been  there. 
.  .  .  You  speak  of  Wells  just  as  I  should  do.  ...  How 
grand  the  effect  of  the  Cathedral  group  from  the  hill  to  the 
east !  They  call  the  place  the  city  of  the  dead,  but  I  am  sure 
that  there  must  be  troops  of  God's  spirits  there. 


HARROW,  igthfttly  1860. 

My  dear  Davies — At  the  risk  of  writing  both  hastily  and 
crudely,  I  feel  I  must  write  to  thank  you  for  your  note,  and 
to  try  to  put  into  words  one  or  two  thoughts  which  have 
occurred  to  me  on  the  great  subject  of  which  you  write. 
Hitherto  I  have  only  had  time  to  read  three  or  four  of  your 
sermons,2  and  if  I  cannot  accept  any  clause  as  expressing  my 
view,  I  can  at  least  accept  the  whole  as  a  true  view — one 
view  it  may  be  of  many — for  the  subject,  as  all  divine  subjects, 
is  infinite. 

i.  In  the  first  place,  I  object  to  all  illustrations  from 
human  justice  on  whatever  side  alleged;  because  I  think  that 
our  justice  essentially  regards  actions  in  relation  to  society, 

1  My  father  has  remarked  that  Dr.  Barry,  his  own  friend  and  contem 
porary  at  Cambridge,  and  afterwards  Principal  of  Cheltenham  College,  was 
Dr.  Butler's  most  serious  rival. 

2  The  Work  of  Christ.     Macmillan,  1860. 

iv  HARROW  239 

and  not  as  they  affect  the  individual  himself.  Sins  most 
ruinous  to  the  moral  character  of  the  individual  are  wholly 
neglected  by  human  law. 

2.  Next,  man's  forgiveness  accepts  the  penitent  as  he  is, 
and  is  not  in  any  way  supposed  to  remove  the  effects  of  past 
offences  in  him.     He  remains  what  his  sin  has  made  him 
when  forgiven — in  himself. 

3.  Does  it  not  then  follow  that  the  requirements  of  divine 
justice  and  the  perfection  of  divine  forgiveness  may  require 
the  satisfaction  of  a  condition  which  is  not  required  in  our 
dealings  one  with  another? 

4.  And    in    connexion    with    this    is    not    the    essential 
union  of  the  Christian  with  Christ — "  accepted  Iv  TW  ^ya-Trrj- 
fjxvo) " — so  that  His  actions  are  ours,  His  sufferings  ours — 
always  insisted  on  in  the  New  Testament  ? 

5.  If,  then,  we  may  represent  suffering  as  the  necessary 
consequence  of  sin,  so  that  the  sinner  is  in  bondage,  given  over 
to  the  Prince  of  Evil,  till  his  debt  is  paid,  may  we  not  repre 
sent  to  ourselves  our  Lord  as  taking  humanity  upon  Him,  and 
as  man  paying  this  debt — not  as  the  debt  of  the  individual, 
but  as  the  debt  of  the  nature  which  He  assumed?     The 
words  in  St.  Matt,  xxvii.  46  seem  to  indicate  some  such  view. 

6.  To  my  mind  there  is  nothing  in  this  which  is  against 
our  instinctive  notions  of  justice.     And  such  a  view  seems  to 
reconcile  the  love  of  the  Father  for  man  with  the  love  of  the 
Son  for  man. 

I  should  be  very  glad  to  hear  how  far  you  differ  from  me. 

"  Trial "  is  just  beginning,  and  I  ought  not  to  have  written 
perhaps  without  thinking  more,  for  the  subject  is  one  which  I 
have  not  studied  as  I  ought  to  study  it,  and  possibly  the  view 
which  I  am  inclined  to  advocate  is  an  old  one.  I  am  very 
glad  to  hear  good  tidings  from  you. — Ever  yours  affectionately, 


To  THE  REV.  F.  J.  A.  HORT 

HYTHE,  6tA  August  1860. 

.  .  .  There  seems  to  me  to  be  something  unspeakably  sad 
in  controversy  on  such  a  subject  as  the  Atonement.     It  is 

24o          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

worse  than  a  popular  discussion  about  Transubstantiation. 
Have  we  the  slightest  hope  to  expect  to  gain  an  intelligible 
theory  of  the  fact  ?  Is  it  not  enough  to  say  that  the  death  of 
our  Blessed  Lord  was  necessary  for  our  redemption  ?  and  that 
we  are  saved  by  it  ?  Is  it  not  absurd  to  expect  that  we  can 
conceive  how  it  is  necessary — since  the  necessity  is  divine  ? 
Then,  again,  do  you  not  think  that  those  who  talk  of  instincts 
of  justice  and  the  like — all  human  words  and  ideas  which  are 
generally  refuted  (pardon  me)  by  the  facts  of  evil  and  life,  if 
pressed  one  step  in  theory — forget  the  absolute  union  of 
Christ  with  man,  as  of  man  with  Adam.  In  point  of  justice 
the  Incarnation,  as  involving  fatigue  and  suffering,  naturally 
was  unjust  according  to  the  view  of  Davies,  if  I  understand 
him.  And  may  we  not  conceive  of  a  necessity  which  brings 
suffering  after  sin,  quite  apart  from  free  forgiveness,  which  we 
see  in  common  life  ?  and  may  not  this  have  been  the  early 
idea  of  a  ransom  paid  to  the  powers  of  evil,  which  was  the 
first  doctrine  of  an  atonement  ?  These  are  fragmentary 
thoughts,  which  will  indicate  the  direction  which  I  should  be 
inclined  to  take,  if  obliged  to  take  any.  .  .  . 


HARROW,  %th  December  1860. 

.  .  .  The  stillness  of  Extra  School  was  just  now  inter 
rupted  by  most  martial  sounds.  The  band  of  the  "  Harrow 
Rifles  "  escorted  the  School  companies  on  a  grand  march  to 
Sudbury.  I  did  not  see  the  muster,  but  the  movement  is 
well  kept  up,  and  as  the  officers  are  to  wear  swords,  they  at 
least  are  quite  enthusiastic.  At  Bill  I  seemed  as  if  I  ought  to 
have  called  "Major  Ridley"  and  "Captain  Williams,"  the 
uniforms  were  so  numerous,  and  the  military  element  so 
predominant  over  the  scholastic  (hateful  word !).... 


MOSELEY,  20th  December  1860. 

...  I  went  into  town  yesterday  and  looked  at  the  Christian 
Observer.  There  was  nothing  very  terrible  in  the  condemna- 


HARROW  241 

tion  of  my  heresy.  My  worst  fault  was  that  I  "  dismissed 
with  scorn  a  system  of  interpretation  which  Newton  and 
Mede  and  countless  other  critics,  quite  as  competent  to  judge 
as  Mr.  B.  F.  Westcott,  had  accepted."  I  suppose  that  this 
was  severe  sarcasm,  but  I  survive  the  wound. 

Just  now  I  have  read  Framley  Parsonage.  How  marvel 
lously  good  it  is.  The  scenes  are,  of  course,  critical,  but  I 
think  that  the  execution  is  masterly.  My  sympathies  are 
wonderfully  moved  for  poor  Mr.  Crawley.  He  is  almost  too 
truly  and  sadly  drawn. 

The  following  extracts  from  letters  to  Mr.  Hort  in 
September  and  October  1861  tell  of  the  progress  of 
his  work  for  the  Bible  Dictionary : — 

I  have  done  no  work  except  desultory  work  for  Dr.  Smith, 
which  is  so  far  pleasant  as  it  is  filling  up  spare  time  without 
any  great  strain,  and  keeps  up  the  power  of  thinking.  One 
article,  "  Philosophy  "  (!),  cost  me  a  great  amount  of  trouble, 
but  I  was  glad  to  get  a  bird's-eye  view  of  the  history,  and  to 
become  aware  of  the  fact  that  the  history  of  pre-Christian 
philosophy  in  its  religious  bearings  has  not  yet  been  written. 
Zeller's  book  seems  to  me  immensely  in  advance  of  every 
thing  written  on  classical  philosophy.  Do  you  know  it? 
And  am  I  right  in  believing  that  the  propaedeutic  office  of 
Greek  philosophy  has  never  been  fairly  discussed  ?  By  the 
way,  Mill's  sentence  about  M.  Aurelius,  quoted  by  Stanley 
with  approbation,  provoked  me  amazingly.  I  should  place 
the  meditations  at  the  exact  opposite  pole  to  Christianity.  . 

...  I  am  busy  on  my  last  article  for  Dr.  Smith,  "  Vulgate." 
Can  you  tell  me  of  any  books  later  than  van  Ess  ?  As  far  as 
I  can  make  out  there  has  been  nothing  done  for  the  Old 
Testament  (Vercellone  has  not  reached  me  yet),  and  next  to 
nothing  for  the  New  Testament,  except  the  Gospels.  I  should 
be  very  glad  of  any  references.  Of  course  the  article  must 
be  brief,  but  still  there  are  many  points  which  I  should  like 
to  work  out  for  myself  if  possible.  My  great  difficulty  lies  in 
determining  the  substantial  existence  of  any  Hieronymian 
recension  of  Epp.  Very  many  of  the  readings  quoted  as 

VOL.  I  R 

242          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT    CHAP,  iv 

"  It "  are  by  no  means  confined  to  the  old  version,  and  our 
texts  are  purely  Graeco-Latin.  Have  you  ever  examined  the 
curious  blending  of  readings  in  "f"  for  instance?  I  wish  I 
could  have  talked  of  this,  though  indeed  it  is  matter  rather  of 
curiosity  than  of  critical  importance.  .  .  . 


HARROW,  iqth  October  1861. 

As  for  the  Hulsean  Chair,  I  had  no  special  wish,  and 
certainly  no  sanguine  hope  for  it.  Mr.  Lightfoot  has  very 
great  claims,  and  is  resident.  ...  It  has  been  a  great  pain 
to  me  to  hear  our  names  mentioned  as  of  possible  rivals. 
Nothing  could  have  been  further  from  the  thoughts  of  either. 
Pray,  if  you  hear  such  a  report,  contradict  it.  Our  only 
question  was  which  ought  to  come  forward,  and  with  this 
view  we  were  most  anxious  to  collect  any  information  which 
might  guide  us. 

TO    THE    REV.    J.    F.    WlCKENDEN 

MOSELEY,  3i.rf  December  1861. 

.  .  .  We  spent  a  very  pleasant  week  with  Cubitt,  and 
when  there  I  went  over  to  Wellington  College  for  a  day.  I 
found  Benson  full  of  hope  and  vigour.  He  had  thoroughly 
maintained  his  ground  in  the  dispute,  thanks  to  the  Prince. 
.  .  .  Lightfoot  was  with  us  for  two  days.  He  seems  very 
well  and  joyful  in  the  prospect  of  his  new  work.  Since  the 
University  has  chosen  him,  and  peremptorily  rejected  Lord 
Palmerston,  I  do  not  despair  yet  of  our  foster  mother.  I 
cannot  describe  my  indignation  at  hearing  that  Lord  Palmer 
ston  was  to  be  Chancellor,  on  the  ground  that  he  was  the 
one  man  whom  all  would  support.  I  would  have  walked 
barefoot  from  the  land's  end  to  protest  against  such  a  miser 
able  idolatry  of  success.  .  .  . 


HARROW  (continued] 

IN  the  Easter  holidays  of  1862  my  father  visited 
Hereford  and  Tintern.  Concerning  the  latter  place  he 
says  in  his  diary  : — 

The  Abbey  was  in  shade  as  we  first  saw  it,  and  so  with 
veiled  beauty.  The  dew  was  still  fresh  on  the  ivy,  and  the 
lights  and  shadows  were  absolutely  perfect.  Afterwards,  in 
the  broad  sunlight,  the  contrast  was  less  striking :  all  was 
toned  to  one  rich  mellowness.  No  view  can  excel  that 
from  the  right  on  entering ;  next  is  that  from  the  Hospice. 
The  architecture  of  the  Refectory  is  worthy  of  notice  from  its 
simple  plate -tracery.  Elsewhere  the  absence  of  arches  or 
outlines  to  the  foliations  is  very  noticeable.  Trefoils,  etc., 
are  used  simply  in  the  tracery.  It  seems  evident  that  the 
architect  was  familiar  with  foreign  designs  and  treated  each 
element  independently.  The  cloister  doorway  shows  a 
remarkable  instance  of  an  attempt  to  surpass  an  earlier 
effort  in  the  remarkable  variation  of  the  toothed  ornament. 
The  mouldings  of  the  door  with  its  foliated  head  are 
singularly  exquisite.  I  felt  it  absolutely  impossible  to  sketch. 
No  skill  could  paint  the  colours,  and  no  outline  could  be 
more  than  a  dismal  skeleton. 

In  the  summer  holidays  of  the  same  year  he  made 

244         LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

a  tour  with  his  wife  in  Cornwall  and  the  Scilly  Isles. 
His  diary  of  this  excursion  is  enriched  with  some 
exquisite  architectural  sketches ;  but  his  experiences 
were  not  of  an  extraordinary  character,  and  though 
they  are,  as  can  be  readily  imagined,  admirably 
chronicled,  must  pass  unnoticed. 

At  this  time  my  father  was  still  engaged  on  some 
of  his  last  articles  for  Dr.  Smith's  Dictionary  of  the 
Bible,  and  in  connexion  therewith  spent  his  Easter 
holidays  of  1863  in  Paris  in  the  Imperial  Library.  On 
his  journey  thither  he  had  a  very  rough  passage  of 
seven  hours  from  Newhaven  to  Dieppe.  Every  one 
seems  to  have  succumbed  to  the  terrors  of  the  sea 
except  a  certain  six-foot  Archdeacon.  Of  this  digni 
tary  my  father  narrates  : — 

I  found  him  in  the  cabin  sitting  erect,  placid,  solemn, 
contemplating  his  hat,  which  was  placed  before  him  as  the 
central  glory — shining  and  black — and  the  worship  seemed 
to  bring  its  reward. 

In  the  summer  holidays  of  1863,  spent  with  his 
family  at  Seaton,  my  father  was  busily  engaged  on 
The  Bible  in  the  Church.  He  undertook  this  work 
because  he  had  been  asked  to  give  the  substance  of  his 
History  of  the  New  Testament  Canon  in  a  form  more 
convenient  for  popular  use.  He  decided,  however,  in 
this  more  popular  work  to  give  some  account  of  the 
collection  of  the  Old  Testament  Scriptures  also.  In 
the  preface  to  one  of  the  later  editions  of  this  book,  he 
says  :  "  If  at  first  it  seemed  strange  to  some  that  I  spoke 
on  several  points  with  less  confidence  than  was  common 
twenty  years  ago,  it  is  my  happiness  now  to  find 
nothing  to  retract  or  modify  in  the  general  view  which 
I  then  gave  of  the  history  of  the  Christian  Bible." 

v  HARROW  245 

When,  some  years  later,  he  was  rather  anxious  to 
extend  his  larger  New  Testament  work  along  the  same 
lines,  he  was  dissuaded  by  Dr.  Lightfoot,  who  professed 
himself  to  be  quite  satisfied  with  the  "  Little  Canon,"  as 
he  affectionately  called  The  Bible  in  the  Church,  which 
he  said  he  considered  to  be  the  best  of  my  father's 
earlier  works.  The  following  letter  to  Professor  Light- 
foot  tells  of  the  progress  of  the  new  book  :— 

SEATON,  zyh  Aug.  1863. 

My  dear  Lightfoot — Alas  !  I  must  confess  that  I  have 
nothing  to  send  Hort,  except  kindest  remembrances  and  best 
wishes.  Since  I  have  been  here  I  have  been  steadily  work 
ing  at  The  Bible  in  the  Church,  and  have  written  more  than 
half  of  it.  Probably  I  may  finish  it  before  the  end  of  the 
holidays  if  my  zeal  holds  out.  I  hope  the  work  will  be 
clear.  In  many  respects  it  is  clearer,  as  far  as  I  can  judge, 
than  the  former  one,  and  of  course  far  more  satisfactory  as 
including  the  O.T.  too.  Yet  I  can  easily  suppose  that  it 
will  please  nobody.  Shall  I  envy  you  your  visit  to  Italy? 
...  If  you  see  any  popular  religious  Catechisms  will  you 
get  me  copies?  There  are  several  in  recommendation  of 
special  "cults,"  which  I  should  be  glad  to  see.  Do  not  fear 
that  I  am  going  to  turn  controversialist,  yet  I  am  anxious  to 
have  a  picture  of  Romanism  at  home.  As  for  text,  would 
you  not  place  alternative  readings  as  in  Dr.  Vaughan's 
Romans  ?  This  satisfies  me  completely,  and  Hort  too  (I 
think)  was  satisfied  with  the  arrangement.  I  like  it  better 
than  margin. — Ever  yours  affectionately, 


Early  in  1864  the  Norrisian  Professorship  of 
Divinity  at  Cambridge  became  vacant.  As  the  follow 
ing  letters  show,  my  father  seriously  entertained  the 
thought  of  being  candidate  for  the  office  : — 

246          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

TO    THE    REV.    J.    B.    LlGHTFOOT 

HARROW,  zbthjan.  1864. 

My  dear  Lightfoot — Your  note  came  just  as  I  was  ponder 
ing  over  the  announcement.  It  seems  very  hard  to  decide. 
For  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  find  myself  in  a  position  which 
promises  to  leave  fair  room  for  providing  for  our  family,  and 
I  suppose  that  to  leave  Harrow  now  would  involve  a  very 
considerable  sacrifice.  At  the  same  time  I  find  an  interest  in 
my  work,  as  I  have  all  my  boys  with  me,  which  I  have  never 
felt  before,  and  can  be  quite  contented  to  devote  myself  to 
them.  Yet,  on  the  other  hand,  the  work  is  most  exhausting. 
I  doubt  whether  I  could  bear  my  present  labour  for  very 
long,  and  it  makes  all  other  work  nearly  impossible.  Person 
ally  I  care  nothing  for  money.  If  we  can  educate  our 
children,  that  is  enough.  Thus  the  question  seems  to  be, 
Where  will  one  do  the  most  useful  work  ?  And  who  can 
answer  it?  There  is  no  doubt  but  that  I  should  enjoy 
Cambridge  extremely.  Whether  I  could  do  anything  there  I 
doubt  much  more.  I  hardly  know  where  to  turn  for  advice 
on  this  point.  As  I  said  to  you  in  the  first  instance,  I  will 
gladly  do  what  my  friends  think  I  ought  to  do.  I  have  not 
the  slightest  ambition  to  gratify.  If  any  one  else  is  likely  to 
come  forward  who  supports  the  same  cause  as  we  hold  to  be 
true,  I  should  most  willingly  retire.  But  if  no  one  will  come 
forward  of  like  views,  then  it  seems  to  me  that  I  ought  to 
offer  myself.  You  are  more  sanguine  of  my  success  than  I  am. 
If  the  electors  are  the  Heads,  I  cannot  see  that  I  have  much 
chance  of  success.  But  as  to  that  I  am  really  very  indifferent. 
My  only  claim  would  be  to  represent  what  I  hold  most  firmly 
to  be  truth  in  theology ;  and  if  the  University  thinks  that  I 
am  wrong,  or  finds  any  one  to  fulfil  the  duty  better,  I  shall 
gladly  acquiesce. 

Can  you  learn  whether  Cambridge  is  an  expensive  place 
to  live  in  ?  But  really  I  can  live  on  anything. 

The  whole  result  seems  to  be  that  if  on  inquiry  you  think 
I  ought  to  come  forward,  I  will  do  so.  If  you  are  doubtful,  I 
would  rather  stay  where  I  am.  This  is  to  place  on  you  a 

v  HARROW  247 

great  burden,  but  I  know  that  you  will  not  decline  to  bear  it. 
— Ever  yours  affectionately,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 

To  THE  REV.  F.  J.  A.  HORT 

HARROW,  2&thjan.  1864. 

My  dear  Hort — Your  very  kind  note  was  most  welcome. 
With  it  came  another  from  Lightfoot.  I  could  not,  of 
course,  take  the  same  sanguine  view  of  my  work  as  you 
take,  but  still  on  the  whole  I  have  decided  now  without 
doubt  to  offer  myself  if  no  one  of  like  views  comes  forward, 
and  except  yourself  I  hardly  know  any  one  who  could 
come  forward.  In  my  note  to  you  I  concluded,  I  hope  not 
too  hastily,  that  you  would  not  be  likely  to  be  a  candidate ; 
and  at  least  I  can  feel  in  some  degree  what  ought  to  be 
done  at  Cambridge,  though  I  know  far  better  where  I  should 
fail  than  my  friends  do.  Yet  now  it  would  be  faithless,  I 
think,  not  to  listen  to  an  invitation  which  comes  from 
different  quarters ;  and  I  feel  glad  that  it  comes  at  a  time 
when  it  would  be  painful  to  leave  Harrow.  Till  lately  I 
should  have  welcomed  any  post  which  would  have  taken  me 
away;  but  now  I  can  enter  with  my  heart  into  the  work. 
...  I  seem  to  have  very  much  to  say  about  other  things, 
but  I  cannot  write  now.  Everything  seems  dreamlike  and 
unreal.  To  think  steadily  is  quite  impossible.  I  should 
almost  tremble  with  fear  if  the  old  ambition  of  my  life  were 
fulfilled,  yet  it  would  not  be  my  seeking — self  again. — Ever 
yours  affectionately,  BROOKE  F.  WESTCOTT. 

Eventually  he  was  compelled  to  abandon  the  idea  of 
the  Norrisian  Professorship,  because  a  subsidy  hitherto 
given  to  the  professorship  was  withdrawn,  and  he  felt 
that  it  would  be  wrong  for  him,  with  his  family,  to 
accept  work  on  an  income  of  barely  £100. 

Later  in  the  same  year  Dr.  Jeremie,  the  Regius 
Professor  of  Divinity,  accepted  the  Deanery  of  Lincoln, 

248          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

and  it  was  at  first  supposed  that  he  would  consequently 
resign  the  Professorship.  This,  however,  he  did  not  do. 
Once  more,  therefore,  my  father  and  his  faithful  friend 
were  disappointed.  In  preparation  for  the  vacancy  my 
father  took  his  degree  of  Bachelor  of  Divinity. 

In  January  1865  my  father  was  persuaded  by  Dr. 
Benson  to  pay  a  long-deferred  visit  to  Bishop  Lee  of 
Manchester.  The  Bishop  welcomed  him  very  warmly, 
and  being  alone  was  able  to  talk  to  him  freely  and  at 
length.  He  discoursed  with  much  energy  of  Dr. 
Arnold,  and  was  intensely  angry  with  Tom  Brown, 
which  he  declared  utterly  misrepresented  Arnold's 
mode  of  dealing  with  boys.  With  Dr.  Newman  too 
he  had  little  patience,  and  appears  to  have  sympa 
thetically  quoted  the  opinion  that  Newman  had  "  trifled 
with  his  reason  till  he  had  lost  it."  Of  their  last  talk, 
when  the  Bishop's  heart  seems  to  have  been  full  of 
tenderness  for  his  loved  pupil  of  old  days,  my  father 
has  jotted  down  various  interesting  notes ;  but  the 
following  letter,  written  to  Dr.  Benson  on  the  day  after 
he  left  Mauldeth  (/th  Jan.),  is  preferable  as  giving 
some  connected  impressions  of  the  visit  and  the  final 
interview.  He  writes  : — 

My  dear  Benson — You  deserve  my  warmest  thanks  for 
encouraging  me  to  go  to  Mauldeth,  and  I  must  send  them  to 
you,  in  however  imperfect  a  shape,  now  I  am  returned  and 
can  look  back  on  three  pleasant  days  there  which  have  given 
me  a  happier  idea  of  the  Bishop  than  I  have  ever  had.  He 
was  in  excellent  spirits,  rejoicing  in  the  work  already  done  in 
his  diocese,  and  above  all  he  had  set  aside  that  hasty  love  of 
paradox,  which  in  some  of  our  last  conversations,  years  ago, 
grieved  me  very  greatly.  His  tolerance  of  opinions  which 
he  did  not  share,  and  his  willingness  even  to  yield  a  little 
now  and  then — for  instance,  in  speaking  of  the  Apologia — 
gave  me  more  than  pleasure.  He  himself  constantly  went 

v  HARROW  249 

back  to  old  days  at  King  Edward's  School,  and  he  evidently 
had  not  lost  his  old  love. 

Sometimes  he  spoke  of  Arnold,  and  vaguely  of  differences 
between  himself  and  A.,  which  seem  to  have  been  great. 
"  The  letters,"  he  said,  "  which  bore  witness  to  them  I  burned 
a  short  time  since." 

Once  the  conversation  turned  to  questions  of  personal 
hope.  "  People  quote  various  words  of  the  Lord,"  said  the 
Bishop,  "as  containing  the  sum  of  the  Gospel— the  Lord's 
Prayer,  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  and  the  like ;  to  me  the 
essence  of  the  Gospel  is  in  simpler  and  shorter  terms :  p) 
<f>o/3ov  '  jjiovov  Tria-Teve.1  Ah  !  Westcott,  mark  that  jwvov.2  p,rj 
<f>oj3ov  '  fjLovov  Trio-T€V€."  And  his  eyes  were  filled  with  tears 
as  he  spoke.  KPE  TrwrreTxo  '  porjOci  IAOV  rrj  aTrwrrta  3  was  the 
only  answer. 

In  the  same  month,  in  a  letter  addressed  to  Pro 
fessor  Lightfoot,  my  father  says  : — 

HARROW,  lyth January  1865. 

I  have  been  shaping  a  strange  essay  in  my  mind  and  on 
paper,  about  which  I  should  like  very  much  to  talk  with  you 
some  time.  It  contains  very  old  thoughts  to  which  I  feel 
almost  bound  to  give  expression  in  the  present  crisis ;  but  I 
am  in  no  hurry  to  speak. 

The  essay  thus  mentioned  is  his  Gospel  of  the  Resur 
rection.  He  says  that  it  contains  "  very  old  thoughts  " 
— the  thoughts  that  had  brought  him  comfort  in  his 
undergraduate  days,  when  he  suffered  so  much  from  a 
torturing  scepticism.  He  had  always  bravely  faced 
his  difficulties,  and  had  at  length  found  sure  ground. 
He  now  offers  in  this  essay  the  general  line  of  thought 
and  argument  which  had  proved  satisfactory  to  him- 

1  Fear  not :  only  believe.  a  Only. 

s  Lord,  I  believe.     Help  Thou  mine  unbelief. 

250          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

self.      The  essay  thus  composed  in  the  latter  part  of 
1864  he  sent  to  Mr.  Macmillan  in  the  following  March. 

HARROW,  ijth  March  1865. 

Dear  Mr.  Macmillan — As  it  is  extremely  uncertain  when  I 
may  be  in  town,  I  send  the  MS.  of  which  I  spoke  to  you.  At 
present  I  have  not  decided  whether  I  shall  publish  it  or  not. 
If  I  do  publish  it,  it  will  probably  be  anonymously.  I  wish 
it  to  stand  or  fall  by  its  own  merits. 

Moreover,  I  should  wish  to  have  the  opportunity  of  care 
fully  revising  it  in  type,  and  of  gaining  the  help  of  some 
friends  for  the  purpose. 

I  have  never  read  the  MS.  since  it  was  written,  but  at  the 
time  each  thought  was  very  carefully  worked  out. 

Of  course  I  should  be  glad  for  you  (if  you  please)  to  read 
it,  and  even  to  gain  the  opinion  of  any  one  else  upon  the 
argument,  without  mentioning  my  name.  If  all  be  well  I 
look  forward  to  filling  up  the  gap  which  remains  at  Easter, 
and  I  shall  therefore  be  glad  if  you  can  let  me  have  the  MS. 
again  in  about  a  fortnight.  The  gap  will  cause  no  difficulty 
in  following  the  argument,  as  you  will  find  the  skeleton  in  its 
proper  place. 

After  the  essay  had  been  printed  it  was  sent  to  a 
few  friends  for  the  benefit  of  their  criticisms.  The 
following  letters  are  in  acknowledgment  of  such  criti 
cisms  : — 


HARROW,  2jth  September  1865. 

.  .  .  Your  criticism  is  very  encouraging.  At  Herne  Bay 
I  worked  a  little  at  revision,  and  hit  upon  some  of  the  blots 
which  you  point  out.  The  others  also  I  will  try  to  remove. 
I  excuse  the  hardness  of  parts  by  the  plea  that  the  Essay  is 
intended  for  those  who  will  take  pains  to  read  it,  and  work 
out  the  processes  for  themselves.  I  made  an  analysis  which 

v  HARROW  251 

will  help  the  reading  a  good  deal,  and  this  itself  suggested  a 
few  clauses  of  connexion  and  the  like. 

The  postulates  must  be  postulates.  I  feel  very  strongly 
that  "self,"  "world,"  "God"  can  rest  on  nothing  but  con 
sciousness.  Perhaps  it  is  useful  to  put  this  plainly.  But  I 
must  not  attempt  to  enter  on  this  now. 

I  have  been  trying  to  recall  my  impressions  of  La  Salette. 
I  wish  I  could  see  to  what  forgotten  truth  Mariolatry  bears 
witness ;  and  how  we  can  practically  set  forth  the  teaching  of 

The  two  questions  must  be  faced  and  ought  to  be  solved. 
School  is  not  the  place  to  solve  them. — Ever  yours  affec 
tionately,  BROOKE  F.  WESTCOTT. 

HARROW,  i$th  October  1865. 

.  .  .  The  essay  is  still  being  pulled  to  pieces.  You  were 
the  most  merciful  and  rapid  of  critics.  It  will  have  suffered 
sufficiently,  I  hope,  by  the  end  of  the  month.  How  eagerly  I 
wish  for  the  time  now  to  work  at  St.  John.  But  it  seems 
more  and  more  impossible  to  find  it.  ... 

To  THE  REV.  E.  W.  BENSON 

HARROW,  I'jth  November  1865. 

My  dear  Benson — Many  thanks  for  your  criticisms.  I 
wish  that  there  had  been  more  of  them.  My  optimism  is 
not  unlimited,  and  the  "  unhappily  "  must,  I  fear,  still  express 
my  judgment  on  the  Byzantine  Empire.  .  .  .  The  other 
points  to  which  you  call  attention  I  have  tried  to  make  less 
open  to  exception.  As  to  the  "  free-will "  of  animals  it  seems 
remarkable  that  those  which  associate  with  man  appear  to 
develop  a  will  and  to  be  treated  as  responsible.  There  is 
nothing,  I  think,  which  is  a  more  startling  proof  of  the  power 
of  society  than  this,  and  the  correlative  degeneracy  of  man  in 

As  far  as  I  could  judge,  the  "  idea  "  of  La  Salette  was  that 
of  God  revealing  Himself  now>  and  not  in  one  form  but  in 

252          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

many.  Does  ev  w<j>  exclude  for  ever  TroAiyzepws  KCU  iroXv- 
rpoTTcos  ?  I  think  not.  To  us,  as  to  the  Jews,  I  fancy  that  the 
ideal  was  first  shown  towards  which  we  painfully  struggle 
through  long  ages.  Is  not  it  clear  that  we  live  in  a  Hellenistic 
age?  But  I  am  becoming  apocalyptic.  —  Ever  yours  affec 
tionately,  BROOKE  F.  WESTCOTT. 


HARROW,  i8M  November  1865. 

My  dear  Lightfoot — As  you  are  the  judge  of  my  ortho 
doxy — a  perilous  office,  I  fear,  in  these  days — I  must  ask  you 
whether  you  think  the  title  of  my  essay  may  be  "  The  Gospel 
of  the  Resurrection :  Thoughts  on  its  relation  to  Reason  and 
History  "  ?  And  next,  whether  it  should  be  anonymous  or 
with  my  name?  The  authorship  could  not  well  remain 
secret.  But  I  think  that  you  gave  me  a  general  "im 

Macmillan  has  promised  me  a  few  copies  of  La  Salette. 
Did  you  notice  that  two  pilgrims  have  just  lost  their  lives  in 
the  mountain  ? 

I  am  delighted  to  hear  that  the  Galatians  is  being  rapidly 
exhausted.  I  doubt  whether  a  second  edition  will  make  me 
charitable  towards  The  Churchman. — Ever  yours  affection 
ately,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 

To  THE  REV.  F.  J.  A.  HORT 

HARROW,  i8M  November  1865. 

My  dear  Hort — I  was  very  glad  to  have  the  slips  this 
morning,  especially  as  they  reached  me  on  my  first  free 
morning  this  term,  and  I  was  therefore  able  to  give  a  quiet 
morning  to  your  notes.  This  makes  me  more  and  more  wish 
that  you  would  write.  On  many  things  when  I  am  in  doubt 
you  seem  to  have  clear  views,  and  you  generally  appear,  I 
think,  to  have  a  more  solid  foundation  than  I  can  boast  of 
in  a  kind  of  historic  optimism.  The  sections  on  Sin  were 
written  while  Gravenhurst  was  fresh  in  my  mind,  and  many 

v  HARROW  253 

of  the  phrases  are  perhaps  to  be  interpreted  by  reference  to 
that  book.  But  I  am  quite  prepared  to  maintain  my  general 
theory.  Several  statements  needed  a  little  explanation ;  but 
I  hardly  see  how  your  definition  or  description  will  in  the 
end  differ  from  mine.  The  setting  up  self  must  be  conscious 
and  personal  and  against  a  person.  I  could  not  imagine  a 
righteous  rebellion  of  the  finite  against  the  infinite.  This 
too  will  explain  why  I  have  kept  "  eternity  "  of  matter.  By 
eternity  I  understood  absolute  existence,  and  that  makes  the 
contradiction  of  which  I  spoke.  Two  absolute  existences 
are  to  my  mind  wholly  inconceivable.  ...  To  me  the  last 
chapter  was  really  necessary.  It  is  very  inadequate,  but  it 
may  set  any  one  thinking;  and  the  Resurrection  seems  to 
teach  the  transformation  of  our  whole  manifold  nature  as 
manifold,  and  so  also  of  society  as  manifold  too.  This  I 
think  we  forget  almost  always.  Frequently  I  have  been  con 
tented  to  hint  at  a  connexion  of  thought,  for  I  should  greatly 
prefer  that  any  one  reading  should  think  the  true  view  sug 
gested  his  rather  than  mine  first.  Moreover,  the  book  is  not 
written  quite  blindly  or  from  within  wholly.  I  have  had  very 
distinctly  before  me  objections  which  I  have  heard  dwelt 
upon. — Ever  yours  affectionately, 


Writing  to  Mr.  Macmillan  in  1 873,  in  connexion  with 
one  of  the  subsequent  editions  of  this  book,  my  father 
says : — 

4fA.M.  4/10/73. 

I  have  revised  my  little  book  on  the  Resurrection  as  care 
fully  as  I  could  with  the  help  of  friends'  criticism,  and  return 
you  the  copy  which  you  sent  me  with  the  necessary  changes. 
This,  as  you  know,  is  the  only  one  of  my  little  books  which 
•  I  really  care  much  about.  If  you  have  or  could  get  any  hints 
towards  improving  it  I  should  be  grateful.  It  may,  I  think, 
yet  be  allowed  to  do  some  good. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  of  his  holiday  excursions 
during  these  later  Harrow  years  was  a  tour  undertaken 


254          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

in  the  summer  of  1865  in  Dauphine  and  Lombardy, 
with  Lightfoot  and  Benson  for  his  companions.  On 
their  journey  to  Paris  the  three  friends  seem  to  have 
fallen  into  the  company  of  thieves ;  but  were  more 
fortunate  than  some  of  their  fellow-travellers,  one  of 
whom  lost  .£150,  receiving  instead  thereof  "  deux  sous 
Beiges."  The  most  interesting  feature  of  this  excursion 
was  a  visit  to  La  Salette,  near  Grenoble.  The  miracles 
wrought  here  at  the  sacred  spring  made  a  great  im 
pression  on  my  father.  Several  narratives  of  miraculous 
cures  wrought  by  Our  Lady  of  La  Salette  were  recited 
in  his  hearing,  and  after  relating  one  of  the  most  strik 
ing  of  these,  he  says  : — 

A  written  narrative  can  convey  no  notion  of  the  effect  of 
such  a  recital.  The  eager  energy  of  the  father,  the  modest 
thankfulness  of  the  daughter,1  the  quick  glances  of  the  spec 
tators  from  one  to  the  other,  the  calm  satisfaction  of  the 
priest,  the  comments  of  look  and  nod,  combined  to  form  a 
scene  which  appeared  hardly  to  belong  to  the  nineteenth 
century.  An  age  of  faith  was  restored  before  our  sight  in  its 
ancient  guise.  We  talked  about  the  cures  to  a  young  lay 
man  who  had  throughout  showed  us  singular  courtesy. 
When  we  remarked  upon  the  peculiar  circumstances  by 
which  they  were  attended,  his  own  comment  was:  "Sans 
croire,  comment  Fexpliquer  ?  "  And  in  this  lay  the  real 
significance  and  power  of  the  place. 

After  the  visit  to  La  Salette  my  father  went  on  to 
Turin  and  Milan  for  literary  purposes.  At  Milan  he 
made  a  careful  examination  of  the  Muratorian  Frag 
ment  on  the  Canon.  The  following  letter  to  Mr. 
Dalrymple  states  briefly  his  impressions  of  this  tour  : — 

1  The  girl  belonged  to  a  distinguished  family  of  Marseilles,  and  having 
been  reduced  to  the  last  stage  of  weakness  by  an  attack  of  pleurisy,  was 
pronounced  to  be  "  agonisante." 

HARROW  255 

HERNE  BAY,  nth  September  \^. 

My  dear  Dalrymple — Your  note  was  waiting  for  me  when 
I  returned  home  last  Saturday  from  a  tour  of  marvellous 
interest.  Had  I  not  spoken  to  you  of  my  hopes?  They 
were  more  than  fulfilled.  Just  a  month  since  I  started  with 
Dr.  Lightfoot  and  Mr.  Benson  for  Dauphine  and  Lombardy. 
Chambe'ry  was  our  starting-point.  Thence  we  went  to  the 
Grande  Chartreuse,  where  we  spent  two  delightful  days  in  the 
thirteenth  century.  Our  next  halting  -  place,  La  Salette, 
offered  a  startling  change,  but  to  me  one  full  of  the  most 
absorbing  interest.  There  we  stayed  two  days  as  pilgrims. 
Our  pilgrimage  in  the  technical  sense  ceased  here,  and  we 
began  our  mountain  expeditions.  .  .  .  After  a  visit  to  Mt. 
Dauphin,  we  crossed  Mt.  Genevre  to  Turin,  where  I  examined 
"k,"  and  thence  to  Milan,  where  the  Muratorian  Canon  was 
duly  consulted,  and  not  without  fruit.  The  exterior  of  the 
Cathedral  was  as  ugly  as  I  thought  it  must  be.  The  interior 
I  thought  overwhelmingly  grand.  I  can  see  it  now  in  the 
solemn  majesty  of  its  golden  light.  The  ghost  of  Leonardo's 
"  Last  Supper  "  was  hardly  less  affecting  ;  hardly  less  the  open 
graves  of  Sts.  Gervasius  and  Protasius,  so  full  of  memories  of 
Ambrose  and  Augustine.  .  .  .  But  above  all  that  was  grand 
and  lovely  the  memories  of  the  Grande  Chartreuse  and  La 
Salette  are  the  most  vivid.  Of  these  we  must  talk  when  we 
meet,  which  will  be  soon,  I  hope. — Ever  yours  affectionately, 


On  his  return  to  England  he  wrote  a  paper  on  the 
subject  of  La  Salette,  which  I  have  quoted  above. 
He  had  fully  intended  to  publish  this  article,  but  re 
frained  from  doing  so  by  Dr.  Lightfoot's  advice.  The 
1  Professor  feared  that  the  publication  of  the  paper  might 
expose  the  author  to  a  charge  of  Mariolatry,  and  even 
prejudice  his  chance  of  election  to  a  Divinity  Professor 
ship  at  Cambridge.  The  announcement  of  the  paper's 
condemnation  is  thus  made  to  its  publisher : — 

256         LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

HARROW,  i$th  November  1865. 

My  dear  Mr.  Macmillan — Dr.  Lightfoot  thinks,  after  read 
ing  La  Salette  that  it  might  be  misunderstood  by  some 
persons,  and  therefore  it  must  be  condemned.  As  it  is  in 
type,  would  it  be  possible  to  print  off  half  a  dozen  copies  in 
the  form  in  which  it  is  ?  Dr.  Lightfoot  and  Mr.  Benson  have 
both  asked  for  copies,  and  I  should  be  glad  to  keep  one  for 
myself;  for  the  visit  taught  me  much  which  I  would  not 
willingly  forget. 

The  printers  are  getting  on  quickly  with  the  Essay,  and  it 
is  time  to  fix  upon  its  name.  I  had  thought  of  "  The  Gospel 
of  the  Resurrection :  Thoughts  on  its  relation  to  Reason 
and  History."  A  friend  suggested  that  the  word  "  Gospel " 
might  repel  many  who  might  otherwise  read  it,  by  the  sug 
gestion  of  Sermons.  He  proposed  "  Message "  instead. 
What  do  you  think  ?  Or  can  you  suggest  anything  else  ?  You 
can  calculate  far  better  than  I  can  the  possible  effect  of  a 
title.  You  will  see  that  I  have  dealt  with  nearly  all  the 
points  which  you  marked  in  one  way  or  other;  and  now  I 
am  ready  for  the  remaining  sheets  if  you  have  looked  through 
them. — Ever  yours  sincerely,  BROOKE  F.  WESTCOTT. 

My  father's  orthodoxy  was  again  called  in  question 
two  years  later.  In  1867  he  wrote  a  tract  entitled 
The  Resurrection  as  a  Fact  and  a  Revelation,  the  sub 
stance  of  which  was  derived  for  the  most  part  from 
his  essay  on  The  Gospel  of  the  Resurrection.  This 
tract  was  accepted  by  the  Society  for  Promoting  Chris 
tian  Knowledge,  and  was  already  in  type,  when  one  of 
the  Society's  episcopal  referees  detected  heresy  in  it. 
The  writer  was  unable  to  omit  the  suspected  passage, 
as  he  held  it  to  be  essential  to  his  argument,  and  con 
sequently  "  his  valuable  pamphlet "  was  suppressed. 
In  the  correspondence  connected  with  this  curious  sup 
pression  my  father  remarks  : — 

The  objection  is  one  which  I  could  not  have  anticipated. 

v  HARROW  257 

It  seems  to  me  to  belong  wholly  to  the  modes  of  thought  of 
the  seventeenth  century. 

And  again  : — 

The  section  in  question  was  not  written  without  consider 
able  previous  discussion,  and  it  contains  a  very  deliberate 
judgment  which  it  would  be  wrong  to  abandon  on  a  vague 
charge  of  liability  to  misrepresentation.  ...  I  need  not  say 
that  I  should  not  cling  to  what  I  have  written  so  firmly,  if 
every  sentence  had  not  been  debated  again  and  again,  before 
the  original  essay  was  published,  with  scholars  in  whose  judg 
ment  I  could  implicitly  trust. 

Immediately  after  his  return  from  Lombardy  my 
father  settled  down  to  steady  holiday  work  at  Herne  Bay. 
Thence  also  he  indited  the  following  poem  anent  Dr. 
Benson's  hat : — 


Ah  me !  had  I  the  poet's  pen 

Which  traced  the  triumphs  of  the  plaid  ! l 

A  nobler  theme  demands  my  song, 
A  crown  and  not  a  robe ;  but  sad 

The  truth — my  rhymes  will  dull  its  sheen, 

For  Herne  Bay  is  not  Hippocrene. 

A  wide-awake,  a  casque,  a  hat, 

How  shall  I  name  the  changeful  thing  ? 

Now  in  this  shape,  and  now  in  that, 
It  bodies  some  imagining 

Of  grace  or  dignity  to  view, 

Chameleon-like  in  varied  hue. 

The  weight  of  years  is  on  its  brim, 

The  light  of  suns  is  on  its  crest ; 
Its  black  has  mellowed  down  to  brown  ; 

The  outline  wavers  ;  for  the  rest, 
Each  hue  has  some  instinctive  power 
To  suit  the  fashion  of  the  hour. 

1  Dr.  Benson  wrote  some  verses  on  the  plaid  worn  by  my  father  on 
their  recent  tour.     See  Life  of  Archbishop  Benson^  i.  235-37. 

VOL.  I  S 

258          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

Not  Rubens  had  a  grander  sweep 

Of  beaver  swelling  broadly  down  ; 
Not  Gessler's  a  more  sovereign  look 

To  bear  the  honours  of  a  crown  • 
And  cunning  fingers  could  not  vie 
With  nature's  subtle  broidery. 

E'en  as  I  write  I  see  it  still 

Circling  the  thoughtful  artist's  brow 
With  softest  forms  of  wavy  shade 
Worthy  of  Tintoret ;  and  now 
It  stiffens  out  and  seems  to  say, 
"  I  lead  :  you  follow  and  obey." 

B.  F.  W. 

September  1865. 

My  father's  plaid,  the  original  theme  which  called 
forth  the  above  response,  was  indeed  a  worthy  one. 
On  his  holiday  rambles  he  invariably  wore  this  plaid 
round  his  waist  and  over  his  shoulder,  and  in  com 
bination  with  his  wide-awake  squeezed  in  at  the  sides, 
and  his  black  cloth  gloves,  one  of  which  he  could 
never  wear,  it  served  to  distinguish  its  wearer  on  all 
occasions.  In  the  following  lines  Dr.  Benson  most 
happily  describes  the  wearing  of  the  plaid,  and  its 
universal  uses  : — 

Forgive  me  ! — still  entwine  my  waist, 
My  shoulder  climb,  descend  my  chest, 
Still  'neath  my  elbow  be  embraced 
Thy  fringe,  my  plaid  ! 

My  Heater  still  and  Freezer  be ! 
My  Cushion  and  my  Canopy — 
All  comfort  in  Epitome, 

My  magic  plaid ! 

But  yet  again  we  must  not  forget  the  schoolmaster, 
and  must  pause  to  pick  up  some  further  evidences  of 
work  for  the  school, 

v  HARROW  259 

Half  a  century  ago  the  study  of  Natural  Science  did 
not  usually  receive  much  attention  in  schools,  but  at 
Harrow  boys  were  even  then  encouraged  by  means  of 
periodical  examinations  to  engage  in  such  studies.  In 
the  fostering  of  such  pursuits  my  father  took  a  leading 
part.  In  December  1 865,  at  the  Headmaster's  request,  he 
drew  up  a  scheme  for  examinations  in  Natural  Science. 
In  a  letter  explanatory  of  the  scheme  he  says  : — 

The  arrangement  is  designed  to  cover  a  period  of  three 
years,  in  the  course  of  which  time  it  is  hoped  that  a  boy  may 
have  an  opportunity  of  bringing  out  successfully  any  special 
taste  which  he  possesses  for  any  branch  of  Natural  Science. 
In  order  to  give  a  definite  reality  to  the  scheme,  the  names 
of  several  masters  are  tentatively  attached  to  subjects  which, 
it  is  hoped,  they  may  be  willing  to  undertake.  The  success 
of  the  scheme  must  depend  upon  the  co-operation  of  as  large 
a  number  of  our  body  as  possible,  and  it  is  expected  that  the 
distinct  assignment  of  subjects  may  give  life  and  efficiency  to 
the  examination.  Hitherto  the  difficulty  which  has  been 
experienced  in  the  selection  of  proper  text-books  has  been 
a  serious  hindrance  to  the  good  working  of  the  examinations. 
To  meet  this  difficulty  it  is  proposed  that  the  announcement 
of  each  subject  shall  be  accompanied  by  a  full  syllabus  of 
the  details  of  the  subject  to  which  the  examination  will 
be  confined,  with  general  references  to  the  best  sources 
from  which  information  upon  them  may  be  gained. 
Each  master  who  undertakes  a  subject  will,  it  is  hoped, 
hold  himself  responsible  for  the  composition  of  the  syllabus 
which  relates  to  it,  and  also  be  willing  to  offer  suggestions, 
and  render  help  to  candidates  preparing  for  examination  in 
his  particular  subject. 

.  4 

The  desultory  system  which  has  been  followed  up  to  the 
present  time  has,  we  must  all  feel,  produced  many  good 
results,  and  it  cannot  be  doubted  that  the  object  which  the 
examinations  are  designed  to  gain  is  worthy  of  a  combined 
and  definite  effort. 

260          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

It  should  be  added  that  the  subject  for  which  my 
father  proposed  to  make  himself  responsible  was  the 
Classification  and  Distribution  of  Plants,  including 
outlines  of  the  Fossil  Flora.  Structural  Botany  was 
undertaken  by  Mr.  F.  W.  Farrar. 

Remembering  how  in  his  later  years  my  father  won 
some  renown  as  a  peacemaker,  it  is  interesting  to  be 
reminded  of  his  earlier  efforts  in  the  same  direction.  A 
friend  l  writes  to  say  : — 

I  well  recollect  how,  on  more  than  one  occasion,  after 
calling  over  (bill),  he  came  down  to  the  "milling  ground" 
and  tried  to  stop  the  fighting,  and  to  make  peace  between 
the  combatants.  His  efforts  were  not  always  attended  with 
success,  however,  but  I  think  in  the  end  helped  to  bring 
about  the  discontinuance  of  fighting,  which  was  afterwards 
forbidden  by  the  school  authorities. 

It  must  not,  however,  be  supposed  that  he  was 
altogether  opposed  to  all  fighting :  I  believe  that  he 
would  even  advise  boys,  whose  differences  appeared 
not  to  admit  of  settlement,  to  "  have  it  out." 

In  1866  my  father  devoted  his  Easter  holidays  to 
an  essay  on  the  Myths  of  Plato,  and  his  summer  holi 
days  to  an  essay  on  the  Greek  dramatist  ^Eschylus. 
Both  these  essays  were  published  in  the  Contemporary 
Review  in  the  course  of  that  year.  In  the  following 
year  he  wrote  a  third  essay  on  the  Greek  dramatist 
Euripides,  which  also  appeared  in  the  Contemporary. 
The  two  letters  which  follow  are  connected  with  the 
earlier  essays  2 : — 

1  Mr.  A.  Garfit,  West  Hill  House,  Lincoln. 

2  These  three  essays  were  republished  with  others  in  Religious  Thought 
in  the  West.     Macmillan,  1891. 

v  HARROW  261 


HARROW,  %th  May  1866. 

...  A  proof  of  my  holiday  work  on  Myths  has  come,  and 
I  shall  be  very  glad  if  you  will  glance  your  eye  at  the  remarks, 
lest  I  should  unconsciously  have  become  a  pagan  or  platonist, 
or  anything  else  which  I  ought  not  to  be.  You  see  it  is  a 
very  serious  matter  to  take  charge  of  any  one's  reputation 
for  orthodoxy.  I  know  no  Platonic  friend  who  could  at  a 
glance  tell  me  if  I  have  erred  in  my  estimate  of  the  Myths 
themselves.  I  feel  very  strongly  that  I  am  in  the  main 
right.  .  .  . 

To  THE  REV.  F.  J.  A.  HORT 

LLANFAIRFECHAN,  ^\st  August  1866. 

.  .  .  My  reading  has  been  wholly  confined  to  ^Eschylus 
and  Browning.  Of  the  latter  I  had  read  almost  nothing 
before,  and  he  is  therefore  harder  than  ^Eschylus,  but  more 
rewarding.  ^Eschylus  more  and  more  stands  out  to  me  as 
"  the  law  "  for  the  pagan  world.  Plato  was  a  prophet.  I  am 
sure  that  the  popular  notions  about  the  ^Eschylean  fate 
could  never  have  gained  currency,  if  we  had  not  lost  prac 
tically  what  he  dwells  on,  a  sense  of  sin  as  a  moral  force.  I 
have  been  putting  down  my  thoughts  on  paper,  perhaps  as  a 
companion  article  to  the  Myths.  People  commonly  do  not 
know  in  the  least  what  classical  literature  and  theology  are, 
and  it  is  worth  while  trying,  however  feebly,  to  help  them  to 
know,  even  at  a  sacrifice.  .  .  .  Our  botany  has  been  meagre 
as  yet,  but  Lightfoot  and  I  propose  to  go  over  the  botanic 
formation,  which  is,  I  see,  on  the  geological  map  marked  out 
clearly  by  a  belt  of  "  calcareo-arenaceous  ashes."  .  .  . 

In  connexion  with  these  essays  on  the  "  prophetic 
masters  of  the  West,"  which  were  but  a  fragment  of  a 
design  "  formed  very  early  in  life "  by  their  writer, 
I  am  tempted  to  quote  the  following  words  of  Canon 
A.  S.  Farrar l  :— 

1  Professor  of  Divinity  in  the  University  of  Durham. 

262          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

I  do  not  think  that  he  (sc.  Bishop  Westcott)  has  been 
sufficiently  estimated  as  the  literary  man.  All  allow  that  he 
had  great  gifts  from  nature,  immense  brain-power  and  origin 
ality  of  mind ;  and  that  he  became  the  great  scholar ;  but 
because  he  devoted  these  gifts  mainly  to  the  Church  and 
theological  learning,  there  is  a  danger  of  our  forgetting  that 
he  showed  such  literary  powers,  as  scholar  and  critic,  that  he 
might  have  shone  as  a  star  of  the  first  magnitude  in  the 
galaxy  of  literary  writers.  One  of  his  books  which  proves 
this  is  his  Religious  Thought  in  the  West,  an  early  effort, 
which,  it  is  true,  he  turns  to  a  theological  use,  as  he  gives  a 
comparative  study  of  some  of  the  poets  and  thinkers  of  the 
world ;  but  in  which  I  should  select  his  sketches  of  ^Eschylus 
and  Euripides  as  masterpieces  of  suggestive  criticism  and 
depth  of  literary  insight.  But  he  laid  his  great  literary  gifts 
at  the  foot  of  the  Cross ;  and  accordingly  we  have  to  watch 
this  literary  development  under  this  more  limited  aspect.1 

During  1867  my  father  was  much  occupied  with 
Comte  and  Positivism.  He  wrote  an  article  entitled 
"  Aspects  of  Positivism  in  relation  to  Christianity," 
which  originally  appeared  in  the  Contemporary  Review, 
but  has  since  been  added  as  an  appendix  to  his  Gospel 
of  the  Resurrection.  About  the  same  time  he  was 
labouring  to  complete  his  History  of  the  English  Bible, 
which  was  published  in  1868.  In  the  preface  to  this 
work  he  says,  "  In  the  following  Essay  I  have  endea 
voured  to  call  attention  to  some  points  in  the  history 
of  the  English  Bible  which  have  been  strangely 
neglected.  .  .  .  As  far  as  I  know,  no  systematic  inquiry 
into  the  internal  history  of  our  Authorised  Version  has 
yet  been  made,  and  still  no  problem  can  offer  greater 
scope  for  fruitful  research."  In  the  course  of  this 
book  the  author  had  occasion  to  expose  "serious 
historical  inaccuracies  into  which  historians  of  repute 

1  Sermon  preached  in  Durham  Cathedral  on  3rd  November  1901. 

v  HARROW  263 

have  fallen."  It  is  curious  to  note  that  at  the  time 
some  reviewers  were  apt  to  scoff  at  the  writer  for 
"  falling  foul  "  of  these  distinguished  persons.  On  the 
other  hand,  one  of  the  historians  in  question  frankly 
wrote  :  "  I  found  that  in  five  points  out  of  six  he  was 
indisputably  right,  and  in  the  last  edition  of  my  work 
I  have  made  all  necessary  corrections."  In  considera 
tion  of  this  action  my  father  withdrew  an  appendix 
which  he  had  written  dealing  with  the  historical  inac 
curacies.  I  merely  mention  my  father's  courteous 
attitude  on  this  occasion  to  illustrate  the  truth  that, 
to  quote  another's  words,  "  Dr.  Westcott's  love  of  truth 
and  accuracy,  which  I  know  is  pure  and  deep,  has  no 
venom  about  it."  This  History  of  the  English  Bible 
has  for  many  years  been  out  of  print,  although 
frequent  endeavours  have  been  made  to  prepare  a  new 
edition  of  it.1 

In  the  later  years  of  his  Harrow  residence  my  father 
was  very  full  of  the  idea  of  a  "  Coenobium."  5  Every 
form  of  luxury  was  to  him  abhorrent,  and  he  viewed 
with  alarm  the  increasing  tendency  amongst  all  classes 
of  society  to  encourage  extravagant  display  and  waste 
ful  self-indulgence.  His  own  extreme  simplicity  of 
life  is  well  known  to  all  his  friends.  He  could  never 
to  the  end  of  his  life  reconcile  himself  to  dining  late. 
When  circumstances  compelled  him  so  to  do,  he  prac 
tically  went  without  a  meal.  For  spiritual  and 
intellectual  advancement  he  believed  a  life  of  earnest 
self-discipline  to  be  essential.  He  looked  to  the  family 
and  not  the  individual  for  the  exhibition  of  the  simple 
life.  His  views  upon  this  subject  are  accessible  to  all 

1  I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  add  that  Mr.  Aldis  Wright  is  at  the  present 
time  kindly  preparing  a  revised  edition  of  this  book. 

2  Community  life. 

264          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

who  care  to  study  them.  I  only  wish  to  put  it  on 
record  that  he  was  very  much  in  earnest  in  this  matter, 
and  felt  that  he  had  not  done  all  he  might  have  for 
its  furtherance. 

The  following  extracts  will  give  some  idea  of  what 
the  "  Ccenobium  "  was  intended  to  be  : — 

It  would  consist  primarily  of  an  association  of  families, 
bound  together  by  common  principles  of  living,  of  work,  of 
devotion,  subject  during  the  time  of  voluntary  co-operation  to 
central  control,  and  united  by  definite  obligations.  Such  a 
corporate  life  would  be  best  realised  under  the  conditions  of 
collegiate  union  with  hall  and  schools  and  chapel,  with  a 
common  income,  though  not  common  property,  and  an 
organised  government ;  but  the  sense  of  fellowship  and  the 
power  of  sympathy,  though  they  would  be  largely  developed 
by  these,  would  yet  remain  vigorous  whenever  and  in  what 
ever  form  combination  in  the  furtherance  of  the  general  ends 
was  possible.  Indeed,  complete  isolation  from  the  mass  of 
society  would  defeat  the  very  objects  of  the  institution. 
These  objects — the  conquest  of  luxury,  the  disciplining  of 
intellectual  labour,  the  consecration  of  every  fragment  of  life 
by  religious  exercises — would  be  expressed  in  a  threefold 
obligation :  an  obligation  to  poverty,  an  obligation  to  study, 
an  obligation  to  devotion. 

An  organisation  of  families  might  place  openly  before  all 
a  noble  type  of  domestic  life  ;  not  so  costly  as  to  be  beyond 
the  aspirations  of  the  poor;  not  so  sordid  as  to  be  destructive 
of  simple  refinement ;  strong  by  the  confession  of  sympathy ; 
expansive  by  the  force  of  example. 

My  own  recollections  of  the  Ccenobium  are  very 
vivid.  Whenever  we  children  showed  signs  of  greedi 
ness  or  other  selfishness,  we  were  assured  that  such 
things  would  be  unheard  of  in  the  Ccenobium.  There 
the  greedy  would  have  no  second  portions  of  desirable 
puddings.  We  should  not  there  be  allowed  a  choice 

v  HARROW  265 

of  meats,  but  should  be  constrained  to  take  that  which 
was  judged  to  be  best  for  us.  We  viewed  the  establish 
ment  of  the  Ccenobium  with  gloomy  apprehension,  not 
quite  sure  whether  it  was  within  the  bounds  of  practical 
politics  or  not.  I  was  myself  inclined  to  believe  that 
it  really  was  coming,  and  that  we,  with  the  Bensons 
(maybe)  and  Horts  and  a  few  other  families,  would  find 
ourselves  living  a  community  life.  I  remember  con 
fiding  to  a  younger  brother  that  I  had  overheard  some 
conversation  which  convinced  me  that  the  Ccenobium 
was  an  event  of  the  immediate  future,  and  that  a  site 
had  been  selected  for  it  in  Northamptonshire.  I  even 
pointed  out  Peterborough  on  the  map. 

The  following  letters  to  Dr.  Benson  treat  of  this 
subject : — 

HARROW,  2.qth  November  1868. 

My  dear  Benson — Alas  !  I  feel  most  deeply  that  I  ought 
not  to  speak  one  word  about  the  Coenobium.  One  seems  to 
be  entangled  in  the  affairs  of  life.  The  work  must  be  for 
those  who  have  a  fresh  life  to  give.  Yet  sometimes  I  think 
that  I  have  been  faithless  to  a  call  which  might  have  grown 
distinct  if  I  had  listened. 

To-day  we  have  the  edifying  spectacle  of  the  formation  of 
the  British  Parliament  by  omnibuses,  ribbons,  and  placards. 
The  voters  are  merely  an  appendage.  It  is  a  sight  to  make 
one  weep  bitter  tears.  How  can  we  reach  to  the  good 
below  ? — Ever  yours  affectionately,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 

HARROW,  2ist  March  1870. 

.  .  .  The  paper  on  the  Coenobium  will  appear,  I  think, 
in  the  next  number  of  the  Contemporary.  It  was  a  trial  to 
me  not  to  send  it  to  you  and  Lightfoot  and  Wordsworth  for 
criticism,  but  on  the  whole  I  thought  it  best  to  venture  for 
myself,  and  speak  simply  what  I  feel.  If  anything  is  to  come 
of  the  idea  it  will  be  handled  variously,  and  something  is 
gained  even  by  incompleteness.  On  the  true  reconciliation 

266          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

of  classes  I  have  said  a  few  words  which  are,  I  hope,  in 
telligible.  In  speaking  at  Zion  College  at  the  end  of  the 
discussion,  I  dwelt  on  this  aspect  of  the  work  at  more  length. 
— Ever  yours  affectionately,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 

In  October  1868  my  father  received  a  letter  from 
Dr.  Magee,  Dean  of  Cork  and  Bishop -designate  of 
Peterborough,  asking  him  to  accept  the  office  of  Ex 
amining  Chaplain  in  the  diocese  of  Peterborough.  In 
this  letter  Dr.  Magee  says  :  "  Although  personally 
unknown  to  you,  I  have  for  some  years  enjoyed  the 
pleasure  and  advantage  of  a  knowledge  of  your  theo 
logical  writings."  It  is  surely  remarkable  that  my 
father's  first  offer  of  any  sort  of  ecclesiastical  prefer 
ment  should  have  come  at  last  from  one  who  was  a 
stranger  to  him,  and  not  a  member  of  either  of  the 
great  English  Universities.  It  is  true  that  some  years 
before  he  had  been  suggested  by  Dean  Stanley  to 
Bishop  Tait  as  a  suitable  person  for  a  similar  appoint 
ment1  That  suggestion,  however,  was  made  in  1856, 
and  did  not  bear  fruit ;  so  it  remained  for  Bishop 
Magee,  twelve  years  later,  to  offer  my  father  the  first 
recognition  of  his  eminent  services  to  the  Church.  In 
December  of  the  same  year  Bishop  Magee  offered  him 
a  Canonry  in  Peterborough  Cathedral,  vacant  through 
the  death  of  Canon  James.  The  offer  reached  him  on 
Christmas  Day,  and  four  days  later  he  accepted  it. 
The  following  letters  indicate  something  of  what  he  felt 
at  the  time  : — 

To  THE  REV.  E.  W.  BENSON 

HARROW,  31^  December  1868. 

My  dear  Benson — It  was  on  Christmas  morning,  and  I  too 
on   that  day,  which   most  rarely  happens,  was  celebrant  at 
1  Life  of  Archbishop  Fait,  i.  207. 

v  HARROW  267 

Holy  Communion.      If  only  I   could   do  anything  to  make 
the  truths  so  expressed  more  felt  by  myself  and  others  ! 

You  will  not  forget  me  in  the  Litany — "  Illuminate."  It 
seems  a  very  grave  matter  to  choose  deliberately  a  life  of 
study,  if  strength  be  given.  The  Ccenobium  comes  at  least 
one  step  nearer. 

Every  New  Year's  greeting  !  Just  now  I  am  waiting  to  be 
summoned  to  Peterborough  to  be  installed. 

Kindest  wishes  to  all  your  party,  and  truest  thanks  for 
your  prayers  and  benediction. — Ever  yours  affectionately, 


To  THE  REV.  F.  J.  A.  HORT 

HARROW,  -$ist  December  1868. 

My  dear  Hort — The  week  which  I  had  designed  for  quiet 
was  occupied  by  most  anxious  cares.  I  believe  that  I  have 
done  right  in  accepting  the  Canonry,  though  I  cannot  yet 
clearly  see  my  way  to  providing  for  our  boys'  education.  At 
least,  however,  I  do  sincerely  trust  that  I  have  simply  desired 
to  do  what  was  right  irrespective  of  consequences,  and  the 
last  two  years  seem  to  have  tried  my  health  very  severely. 
Perhaps  I  fear  a  collapse  to  idleness  when  the  pressure  is 
once  removed.  You  will  not  forget  me. 

At  present  I  have  done  literally  nothing  these  holidays, 
and  if  I  can  I  intend  to  get  a  few  days'  idleness,  but  in  the 
meantime  I  expect  to  be  summoned  to  Peterborough,  and 
then  must  go  to  Cambridge.  Excitement  is  even  more 
trying  than  work,  and  the  kindness  of  friends  quite  over 
whelms  me,  for  I  shall  only  disappoint  them.  Yet  by  God's 
blessing  we  can  help  one  another. — Ever  yours  affectionately, 



2O//*  February  1869. 

...  I  cannot  write  more  than  one  line.  A  whole  paper 
remains  to  be  looked  over,  and  the  dinner  bell  will  ring  in  a 

268          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

minute  or  two.  The  day  has  been  absorbingly  busy  and  full 
of  interest.  I  have  examined,  climbed  among  the  rafters  of 
the  Cathedral  roof  like  (a  monkey  or)  a  carpenter,  to  consider 
repairs,  looked  at  the  plans  for  our  house,  made  calls,  talked, 
talked,  talked,  and  now  hope  to  listen.  I  am  no  less  hopeful 
than  I  was.  There  is  a  great  work  to  be  done,  and  it  may  be 
given  to  me  to  do  a  fragment  of  it.  The  Bishop  is  most 
kind,  and  I  am  sure  that  he  will  consider  everything  most 
favourably.  But  I  must  say  no  more.  You  will  be  with  us 
in  thought  to-morrow.  Perhaps  that  is  the  most  real 
presence.  Comtism,  you  see,  will  come  out. — Ever,  my 
dearest  Mary,  your  most  affectionate 


When  leaving  Harrow  my  father  expressed  a  wish 
that  there  should  be  no  farewell  presentation,  or  any 
sort  of  demonstration  in  his  honour.  He  expressed 
this  wish  in  a  letter  to  his  friend  and  colleague,  the 
Rev.  F.  Kendall,  who  subsequently  wrote  to  ask 
whether  he  would  consent  to  publish  a  volume  of  his 
sermons  preached  in  the  school  chapel.  Mr.  Kendall 
says  : — 

We  should  much  prize  them  as  a  personal  recollection  of 
the  past,  and  as  a  means  of  keeping  alive  here  in  days  to 
come  something  of  the  spirit  you  have  infused  into  so  many 
here.  .  .  .  We  did  not  adopt  any  formal  resolution  from 
our  sympathy  with  your  dislike  of  any  such  ostentatious 
exhibition  of  feeling.  Will  you  accept  this  informal  intima 
tion  of  our  wishes  as  a  genuine  and  spontaneous  expression 
of  opinion  on  the  part  of  the  mass  of  your  colleagues,  that 
such  a  volume  will  be  at  once  useful  and  welcome,  not 
merely  to  dear  friends  who  may  recall  in  the  written  word 
some  familiar  accents  of  a  much -loved  voice,  but  to  many 
more  who  may  thus  be  quickened  to  an  intenser  interest  in 
the  Church's  work  ? 

My  father,  who  had  some  years  previously  seriously 
entertained  a  similar  request  from  Dr.  Vaughan,  appears 

v  HARROW  269 

to  have  taken  some  steps  towards  compliance  with  his 
colleagues'  desire  ;  for  he  wrote  to  Mr.  Macmillan  : 
"  I  think  on  leaving  Harrow,  if  all  be  well,  of  putting 
together  a  few  sermons  harmonious  in  scope  with  the 
Commemoration  Sermon,  as  '  Encouragements  to 
Christian  Thought,'  or  something  of  the  kind.  As 
soon  as  I  have  time  to  look  over  them  and  arrange 
them,  I  will  send  them  to  you."  The  requisite  leisure, 
however,  seems  not  to  have  been  forthcoming. 

The  school  monitors,  however,  were  able  to  approach 
him  with  the  following  address,  written  on  a  simple 
sheet  of  notepaper  : — 

Canon  of  Peterborough  Cathedral 

We,  the  undersigned,  monitors  of  Harrow  School,  beg  you 
to  accept  this  address  as  a  token,  however  imperfect,  and 
however  inadequate,  of  our  feelings  towards  you,  now  that 
you  have  at  length  left  us,  to  perform  other  duties.  Others 
might  well  express  their  gratitude  for  the  earnest  interest,  the 
untiring  zeal,  and  the  fearless  consistency  with  which,  as  a 
House  Master,  you  have  striven  to  promote  the  best  interests 
of  our  school ;  but  we  have  another  debt  to  acknowledge, 
which  is  more  peculiarly  our  own,  and  cannot  suffer  you  to 
depart  without  endeavouring  thus  to  show  our  gratitude  for 
the  teaching  and  instruction  that  we  have  so  long  received 
from  you.  We  feel  heartily,  even  though  we  express  im 
perfectly,  and  perhaps  appreciate  insufficiently,  the  greatness 
of  this  boon.  But  at  least  through  your  influence  some  new 
hopes  have  been  aroused,  some  new  desires  kindled,  and 
some  new  thoughts  engendered,  which  will  in  the  appointed 
time  bear  fruit. 

It  is,  indeed,  great  matter  of  satisfaction  that  you  have 
remained  with  us  so  long  ;  and  on  your  now  leaving  Harrow 
we  wish  you  most  sincerely  all  happiness  and  all  success  in 
the  new  labours  which  you  have  undertaken ;  and  we  can 

270          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

only  express  a  hope  that  you  may  always  win  the  same 
respectful  admiration,  the  same  heartfelt  esteem,  and  the 
same  affectionate  love  which  you  have  left  behind  in  the 
hearts  of  all  who  knew  you  here. 







Some  of  his  pupils,  moreover,  were  determined  that 
he  should  have  with  him  in  the  years  to  come  some 
tangible  proof  of  their  feelings  towards  him.  They 
contrived,  therefore,  to  circumvent  his  resolve  in  so  far 
as  to  send  him,  without  a  word  of  warning,  a  valuable 
gift  of  books.  I  well  remember  their  arrival  at  our 
Peterborough  home,  and  my  father's  delighted  con 
sternation  as  we  children  came  staggering  in  bearing 
massive  folio  volumes  of  Walton's  Polyglot^  Dugdale's 
Monasticon^  Sacrosancta  Concilia,  and  other  precious 

To  the  kind  donors  he  replied  : — 

PETERBOROUGH,  2gth  December  1870. 

My  dear  Pelham  x — You  will,  I  think,  understand  in  some 
degree  how  impossible  it  is  for  me  to  express  what  I  feel  at 
the  sight  of  the  magnificent  library — for  it  is  no  less — with 
which  my  Harrow  friends  have  equipped  me  for  fresh  labour. 
No  one  could  receive  a  greater  or  more  welcome  encourage 
ment  in  the  prospect  of  a  charge,  which  seems  on  a  nearer 
approach  almost  overwhelming,  than  this  which  I  owe  to 

1  Now  President  of  Trinity  College,  and  Camden  Professor  of  Ancient 
History,  Oxford. 

v  HARROW  271 

those  to  whom  I  owe  much  besides ;  not  a  greater  one,  for 
you  have  placed  my  new  work  in  close  and  permanent  con 
nexion  with  the  old,  which,  with  all  its  anxieties  and  trials, 
was  yet  crowned  with  a  fulness  of  joy  ;  not  a  more  welcome 
one,  for  I  shall  now  enter  on  a  fresh  and  harder  duty  of 
teaching  with  the  clear  assurance  that  I  am  supported  by  the 
sympathy  of  very  many  who  know  well  what  I  need,  and  how 
only  the  task  set  before  me  can  be  accomplished. 

Of  all  the  lessons  of  my  Harrow  life  no  one  has  struck 
me  more  than  that  which,  I  believe,  we  all  learnt  together — 
I  mean  the  marvellous  power  of  effort  directed  to  a  definite 
end  steadily  and  faithfully ;  and  now  nothing  gives  me 
greater  delight  than  to  see  those  who  were  once  my  pupils 
finding  in  various  offices  of  life  the  great  reward  of  work  with 
an  aim.  This  delight,  too,  is  the  more  intense,  because,  as 
you  know,  I  believe  that  England  and  our  English  Church  are 
called  at  present  to  a  service  than  which  no  nation  and  no 
church  has  ever  had  a  greater  to  render  to  Right  and  Truth. 
We  have  seen  faintly,  it  may  be,  and  yet  with  absolute  con 
viction,  that  freedom  and  obedience  to  Law,  Truth,  and 
Light  are  in  the  highest  forms  identical ;  and  you  and  those 
who  work  with  you  will  have  to  make  these  noble  results 
practically  clear  in  dealing  with  the  political  and  religious 
problems  of  our  time.  May  God  give  you  strength  and 
wisdom  to  do  it  !  "We  know  what  we  have  believed." 

How  far  I  seem  to  have  wandered  from  the  purpose  of 
my  note,  and  yet  you  will  see  how  naturally  such  thoughts 
flow  from  the  very  titles  of  the  books  with  which  you  have 
enriched  me.  The  choice  you  have  made  shows  that  you 
feel  that  in  Theology  there  are  two  great  subjects  at  present 
of  paramount  importance — the  critical  study  of  the  sacred 
text  and  the  critical  study  of  the  records  of  ecclesiastical 
history.  And  this  which  is  true  of  Theology  is  true  in  some 
<sense  of  all  higher  work  now.  The  idea  of  unity  in  manifold 
life  is  that  to  which  the  most  independent  results  are  tending, 
and  so  gradually  we  come  nearer  to  the  end  which  St.  Paul 
has  set  before  US,  o  9«&s  ra  Trdvra  ev  Tracriv.1 

But  how  can  I  thank  you,  and  those  in  whose  behalf  you 

1  God  all  in  all. 

272          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

write  ?  Nay,  I  will  not  even  attempt  to  do  so.  As  you  have 
opportunity,  will  you  simply  say  with  what  joy  and  gratitude 
I  shall  henceforth  see  old  friends  ever,  as  it  were,  present 
with  me  in  my  work,  and  find  in  the  silent  books  pledges  of 
silent  help  by  which  they  will  support  me,  and — dare  I  add  ? — 
I  them,  in  service  offered  to  one  great  cause  in  one  supreme 

With  every  wish  of  Christmas  for  you  and  all  our  common 
friends,  believe  me  to  be  ever,  my  dear  Pelham,  yours 
affectionately,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 

The  present  Master  of  Trinity,  under  whom,  as 
Headmaster  of  the  School,  my  father  served  for  the  last 
nine  years  of  his  Harrow  work,  has  been  able  to  add  a 
Master's  estimate  to  that  of  pupils  of  my  father's  services 
to  the  School.  With  this  testimony  we  may  appro 
priately  conclude  the  record  of  this  period  of  his  life. 
Dr.  Butler  writes  : — 

You  have  kindly  asked  me  to  give  you  some  impressions 
as  to  your  father's  work  and  influence  at  Harrow.  This  duty 
you  will  allow  me  to  try  to  discharge  by  a  letter  to  yourself 
rather  than  by  any  more  formal  paper.  I  cannot  find  it  in 
my  heart  to  attempt  to  criticise  the  life  of  so  great  a  man  and 
so  dear  a  friend,  even  during  that  part  of  it  when  he  was  but 
little  known  to  the  world  at  large.  The  years  to  which  my 
words  will  refer  are,  speaking  roughly,  from  1860  to  1870. 

It  was,  as  you  know,  in  1852  that,  at  Dr.  Vaughan's  invi 
tation,  he  went  to  Harrow.  You  will  doubtless  have  testi 
mony  as  to  the  singular  hold  which  he  obtained  almost  from 
the  first  upon  certain  boys  of  exceptional  intellect.  Of  this  I 
heard  at  the  time,  and  have  heard  since,  but  my  own  recol 
lections  begin  with  January  1860,  when  I  succeeded  Dr. 
Vaughan  as  Headmaster. 

At  that  time  Mr.  Westcott,  not  yet  thirty-five  years  of  age, 
held  a  very  peculiar  position  at  Harrow.  He  was  little  known 
in  the  School  at  large.  He  was  not  a  Form  Master.  He  had 
no  "  Large  House  "  to  administer.  His  voice  was  not  yet  a 

v  HARROW  273 

force  in  the  chapel.  It  reached  but  a  few,  and  it  was  under 
stood  by  still  fewer.  But  even  then  he  had  at  least  two 
spheres  of  influence — his  own  pupils  on  the  one  hand,  and 
the  Masters  on  the  other.  With  a  "  Small  House  "  of  some 
seven  boarders,  several  of  them  very  able,  and  with  a  pupil- 
room  of  some  thirty-three  boys  drawn  from  the  Headmaster's 
House,  the  home  boarders,  and  some  other  quarters,  he  had  an 
opportunity  of  creating,  as  it  were,  a  Tenth  Legion  of  his  own. 
He  founded,  and  more  or  less  organised,  a  succession  of  boys 
who  loved  him  for  his  kindness  and  sympathy,  believed  in  him 
for  his  vast  and  varied  knowledge,  and  might  hope  some  day 
to  understand  more  fully  this  attractive  and  stimulating  but 
rather  mysterious  friend. 

As  to  the  Masters,  it  would,  of  course,  be  impossible  for 
me,  or  indeed  for  any  one  else,  to  speak  for  them  as  a  body. 
Some,  I  think,  regarded  him  rather  as  a  dreamer  and  a  recluse, 
whose  element  was  books  not  boys,  but  there  was  a  feeling 
among  us  all  that  we  had  with  us  a  man  of  genius,  a  really 
great  scholar,  an  original  thinker,  a  rising  and  genuine  theo 
logian.  With  some  of  the  Masters,  especially  the  younger  men, 
the  feeling  was  far,  very  far,  in  advance  of  this.  We  saw  in  him 
a  very  dear  friend,  a  wise  counsellor,  a  man  who,  on  almost 
every  subject  of  intellectual  interest,  had  fresh  and  awakening 
thoughts,  and  whose  ideal  of  life,  personal  and  professional, 
was  noble,  simple,  and  self-sacrificing.  We  were  somewhat 
amused  by  what  we  heard  from  time  to  time  as  to  his  diffi 
culties  in  maintaining  discipline,  in  spite  of  his  boundless 
personal  courage ;  but  we  saw  that  if  he  lacked  some  of  the 
lower  gifts,  which  the  most  commonplace  subaltern  can 
exercise  in  the  classroom  or  on  the  parade  ground,  he  pos 
sessed  in  the  highest  degree  the  greater  gifts  which  make  a 
man  first  impressive  and  then  a  leader. 

At  the  same  time,  we  were  not  prophets.  I  doubt  if,  even 
among  those  who  loved  him  best  and  most  fully  recognised 
his  intellectual  and  spiritual  greatness,  there  were  any  who 
foresaw  his  future  eminence,  I  will  not  say  as  a  writer  and 
thinker,  but  as  a  speaker,  a  preacher,  and  a  ruler.  He 
scarcely  ever  preached  at  Harrow  except  about  once  a  term  in 
our  school  chapel,  and  scarcely  ever  spoke  at  any  meeting, 

VOL.  I  T 

274          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

literary  or  religious,  though  we  had  frequent  meetings  in  aid 
of  some  of  the  great  societies — the  Church  Missionary,  the 
Propagation  of  the  Gospel,  the  British  and  Foreign  Bible — all 
of  which  in  later  years  were  proud  to  secure  his  advocacy  and 
to  acknowledge  his  quite  unique  services. 

Even  at  our  "Masters'  Meetings,"  held  once  a  week  at 
about  10  P.M.,  he  very  rarely  spoke.  I  see  him  now,  as 
a  few  loving  survivors  may  still  see  him,  his  hand  over  his 
brow — with  a  suggestion  sometimes  of  shrinking  and  almost 
of  pain,  his  whole  figure  bowed  and  subdued,  as  if  he  appre 
hended  the  utterance  of  some  crude  paradox  or  some  blatant 
platitude.  When  he  did  speak  upon  any  of  the  grave  ques 
tions  that  came  before  us,  religious,  educational,  disciplinary, 
sanitary,  his  opinion  was  given  in  the  fewest  words  and  the 
quietest  of  tones,  recalling  some  principle  which  he  thought 
had  been  neglected,  and  apart  from  which  he  grew  impatient 
of  details.  His  utterances,  rare  as  they  were,  were  received 
with  marked  respect.  There  was  more  of  the  oracle  in  him 
than  in  any  other  member  of  our  exceptionally  distinguished 

Once,  when  he  had  been  quite  silent  on  an  important 
occasion,  I  ventured  to  write  privately  a  few  words  of  affec 
tionate  protest,  assuring  him  of  the  very  high  value  which 
I  personally  set  on  his  opinions,  and  my  belief  that  their 
expression  would  be  profitable  for  us  all.  This  drew  from 
him  a  very  beautiful  and  characteristic  reply,  which  I  cannot 
have  destroyed,  and  yet  unfortunately  I  cannot  find  it  among 
the  many  letters  from  him,  which  I  always  carefully  preserved. 
Its  purport  was  that  he  knew  how  to  obey,  and  that  possibly 
he  might  some  day  know  how  to  rule,  but  that,  as  a  coun 
sellor  acting  with  a  large  body  of  colleagues,  he  preferred 
generally  to  offer  no  advice  on  matters  for  which  he  was  not 
directly  responsible.  The  hint,  most  modestly  and  gracefully 
expressed,  that  he  might  possibly  some  day  be  called  to  rule, 
startled  and  greatly  pleased  me  at  the  time,  and  I  often 
thought  of  it  afterwards  as  he  gradually  rose  to  high  posts  in 
the  University  and  the  Church.  I  do  not  think  that  I  have 
ever  before  mentioned  this  to  any  one. 

The  most  critical  period  in  his  Harrow  life,  so  far  as  I  can 

v  HARROW  275 

judge,  was  when,  on  the  death  of  Mr.  Oxenham,  at  the  end 
of  1863,  he  succeeded  to  the  charge  of  his  "Large  House," 
bringing  with  him  the  few  but  very  distinguished  members  of 
his  own  existing  "Small  House,"  that  is,  some  seven  or  eight 

From  that  time  till  he  received  his  summons  to  Peter 
borough  he  became  a  real  power  in  the  School.  His  House 
was  from  the  first  pre-eminent  for  its  intellectual  and  general 
vigour,  and  no  small  part  of  this  result  was  due  to  the  inspira 
tion  of  the  new  Master. 

You  will  doubtless  have  testimonies  from  some  of  those 
able  pupils  who  were  then  fortunate  enough  to  share  his 
fullest  confidence.  They  well  know  that  no  influence  then 
brought  to  bear  upon  them,  intellectual  or  spiritual,  could 
compare  with  his.  But  they  will  also,  I  doubt  not,  bear 
witness  to  the  lighter  as  well  as  the  graver  side  of  his  rich 
character.  No  learned  man  was  ever  less  of  a  pedant.  No 
great  student  of  books  could  be  more  genial  and  even  playful. 
As  an  instance  of  this,  I  may  be  allowed  to  tell  a  little  story. 

One  characteristic  and  novel  feature  of  his  life  in  his  new 
house  was  the  sympathy  which  he  showed  with  Mr.  John 
Farmer,  who  was  then  just  venturing  on  that  bold  enterprise 
in  "  House  Singing  "  which,  with  Mr.  Bowen's  all-powerful 
assistance  and  the  generous  help  of  others,  was  destined  to  lead 
to  such  delightful  results.  Your  father  was  one  of  the  very 
first  to  write  for  school  use  some  Latin  songs,  of  which  "  lo 
Triumphe  "  became  the  most  famous.  This  kind  service  was 
highly  appreciated  by  Mr.  Farmer,  by  the  House,  and  by  the 
School  at  large.  But  one  audacious  and  short-lived  libel  was 
linked  with  it.  Rumour  whispered  that  a  leading  boy  in  the 
House,  devoted  almost  beyond  others  to  his  beloved  master, 
when  shown  by  the  gleeful  musician  the  first  draft  of  "  lo 
Triumphe,"  observed,  with  pain,  "Surely  there  is  a  false  quan 
tity  in  that  line."  Mr.  Farmer,  in  helpless  amazement,  carried 
it  back  to  its  learned  author,  and  deferentially  suggested  the 
alleged  slip.  The  suggestion  was  first  received  with  indignant 
horror,  till  in  a  few  moments  the  trick  of  the  wicked  pupil  was 
seen  through,  and  condoned  in  a  burst  of  laughter. 

To  return  from    this  little   digression,   which    his   gentle 

276         LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

shade  would  pardon,  I  may  be  allowed,  and  perhaps  even 
expected,  to  say  a  few  words  on  my  own  relations  with  your 
dear  father.  As  to  these,  I  can  never  speak  or  think  too 
gratefully  or  too  reverently.  Coming  as  a  very  young  man 
from  Trinity  in  1860,  I  knew  the  great  name  which  he  had 
left  in  our  College,  and  also  the  hold  which  he  had  acquired 
on  the  affection  of  Dr.  Vaughan  and  on  some  of  my  most 
intimate  Cambridge  friends,  such  as  Hort  and  Lightfoot  and 

I  was,  therefore,  prepared  from  the  outset  to  recognise  the 
rare  quality  of  his  genius,  and  to  minimise  his  deficiencies  in 
dealing  with  the  rougher  and  more  commonplace  aspects  of 
boy  life  at  a  great  public  school.  The  special  professional 
bond  between  us  was  what  I  had  inherited  from  Dr.  Vaughan. 
He  helped  me  in  looking  over  the  Composition  of  a  large  part 
of  the  highest  Form.  He  also  took  one  lesson  with  the  Sixth 
Form  on  Saturdays,  and  it  was  understood  that  he  would 
supply  my  place  in  Form  if  ever  I  was  called  away.  But  these 
occasions  were  rare.  It  was  in  connexion  with  the  Composi 
tion,  always  most  carefully  and  ably  corrected,  that  I  saw  most 
of  his  work. 

But,  apart  from  this,  he  was  in  many  directions  the  friend 
whom  I  consulted  most  where  special  knowledge  or  delicate 
taste  and  feeling  were  required.  If  a  programme  was  to  be 
drawn  up  of  the  subjects  to  be  prepared  for  new  prizes — say, 
for  Scriptural  Knowledge  or  for  Knowledge  of  European 
History  and  English  Literature ;  if  I  had  to  write  some  in 
scription  in  prose  or  verse  for  a  Memorial  Tablet,  or  for 
a  medal,  or  for  a  series  of  books ;  or,  again,  if  any  question 
arose  as  to  the  origin  or  exact  meaning  of  some  passage  in 
the  Bible,  especially  in  the  New  Testament,  it  was  to  him,  in 
my  first  ten  years  of  office,  that  I  constantly  referred  for  advice, 
knowing  that  his  replies  would  give  me  the  maximum  both  of 
fulness  and  of  accuracy.  He  never  spared  himself  trouble  in 
framing  these  replies,  whether  in  Term  time  or  in  the 

No  sketch  of  his  later  time  at  Harrow  would  be  even 
approximately  adequate  which  failed  to  mention  the  two 
noteworthy  sermons  which  he  preached  in  our  chapel  in 

v  HARROW  277 

1866  and  1868.  They  were  entitled  Crises  in  the  History  of 
the  Church  and  Disciplined  Life.  These  he  was  induced  to 
print,  though  not,  at  the  time,  to  publish.  They  brought 
before  us  all,  young  and  old,  those  larger  issues  of  the 
Christian  life,  past  and  present,  on  which  his  own  gaze  was 
becoming  more  and  more  wistfully  fixed.  Their  very  unlike- 
ness  to  the  average  sermon,  "  school "  or  otherwise,  was  re 
freshing.  They  were  essentially  a  "  study  " — a  study  of  life, 
a  study  of  man  as  a  God-taught  being  in  many  ages,  a  study 
of  society,  a  study  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Like  all  such 
"  studies  "  by  first-rate  men,  they  had  a  voice  for  those  who 
had  ears  to  hear,  whether  many  or  few. 

Among  the  most  eager  of  his  hearers,  during  at  least  his 
later  months  among  us,  were  not  the  Masters  only,  or  perhaps 
chiefly — though  we  were  by  this  time  all  proud  of  him — but 
some  of  his  own  most  attached  pupils.  His  physical  voice 
had  not  yet  acquired  the  strength  which  it  gained  gradually, 
and  in  the  most  marked  and  even  startling  manner,  at  Peter 
borough,  at  Cambridge,  and  at  Westminster;  but  it  was 
already  stronger  than  it  had  been  at  first,  and  less  of  a  strained 
whisper.  The  fire,  which  had  always  lain  in  it,  was  more 
visible.  The  effort  to  listen  had  become  with  many  an  oppor 
tunity  and  a  pleasure. 

I  can  never  forget  the  mingled  feelings  with  which  we  heard, 
in  December  1868,  that  he  was  shortly  to  leave  us.  The 
summons  from  Bishop  Magee  to  become  his  Examining  Chap 
lain  at  Peterborough  was  not  yet  accompanied  even  by  a 
Canonry.  To  accept  it  was  a  true  "venture  of  faith."  But 
he  never  hesitated.  He  felt  that  a  new  life,  and  on  a  larger 
scale,  had  begun,  and  that  he  was  henceforth  a  public  servant 
of  the  Church  and  the  country. 

Judging  from  the  letters  which  he  then  wrote  to  me  re 
specting  the  time  of  his  departure  from  Harrow  and  the 
necessary  preparations  for  it,  I  cannot  doubt  that  you  will 
detect  in  all  his  correspondence  at  that  critical  time  a  new 
tone  and  a  new  manner — something  of  the  explorer,  and,  if  I 
may  so  say,  the  apostolic  "adventurer"  and  the  conscious 
prophet — something  like  the  tone  of  J.  H.  Newman  at  Rome, 
at  Palermo,  and  on  the  home  journey  from  Sicily  in  1833,  of 

278          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

which  he  wrote  long  after,  "I  began  to  think  that  I  had  a 
mission."  "  I  have  a  work  to  do  in  England." l 

Yes,  your  father  seemed  to  know  that  he  had  a  distinct 
call  to  a  fresh  life.  The  call  was  certain.  The  life  was  doubt 
ful.  But  he  had  only  to  obey,  and  he  did  obey  with  unfalter 
ing  trust. 

And  here  I  must  close  these  most  imperfect  records. 
His  departure  from  Harrow  was  felt  by  all  of  us  as  leaving  a 
void  which  none  could  fill.  When,  some  sixteen  years  after, 
I  rejoined  him  at  Trinity,  I  found  him,  in  spiritual  things,  the 
acknowledged  leader  of  the  University,  the  inspirer  of  societies, 
the  chief  speaker  at  every  religious  or  educational  gathering, 
the  preacher  to  whose  voice  and  thoughts  no  hearer  listened 
unmoved.  But  of  this,  and  of  Durham,  and  of  the  glorious 
end,  I  have  no  right  to  speak.  His  farewell  sermon  on 
"Life "at  our  Trinity  Commemoration,  on  nth  December 
1900,  is  my  latest  recollection  of  him,  and  seems  to  link  to 
gether  all  his  noble  life — youth  and  age ;  school  and  college  ; 
Harrow,  Peterborough,  Cambridge,  Westminster,  Durham.  No 
man  had  ever  a  better  right  to  use  the  words  with  which  he 
then  took  leave  of  us :  "  The  world  is  ruled  by  great  ideals : 
the  soul  responds  to  them.  If  they  are  neglected  or  forgotten, 
they  reassert  themselves,  and  in  this  sense  truth  prevails  at 
last.  Without  an  ideal  there  can  be  no  continuity  in  life  :  with 
it  even  failures  become  lessons." 

The  following  are  letters  belonging  to  this  period, 


HARROW,  12th  February  1862. 

I  thank  you  most  heartily  for  the  very  interesting  autographs 
which  have  just  reached  me.  That  of  Holman  Hunt  is  one 
which  I  specially  coveted,  for  he  seems  to  me  to  be  a  man 

1  Apologia  pro  Vita  sua,  p.  99,  end  of  Part  iv. 

v  HARROW  279 

who  stands  far,  very  far  in  advance  of  all  our  English 
artists  as  well  in  power  as  in  moral  character,  if  at  least  I 
read  his  pictures  rightly. 

TO    THE    REV.    J.    F.    WlCKENDEN 

MOSELEY,  2nd  May  1862. 

My  dear  Frederic — Yesterday  I  returned  from  a  six  days' 
wandering  with  my  father  from  Hereford  to  Gloucester  down 
the  Wye.  The  weather  was  delightful,  and  we  enjoyed  the 
little  tour  extremely.  I  have  seen  Tintern  several  times  be 
fore,  but  it  never  appeared  so  beautiful  as  in  its  spring  dress 
in  the  early  morning.  The  dewy  freshness  of  the  lights  and 
shadows  completed  a  picture  which  is  almost  perfect  in  out 
line.  For  once  I  was  fairly  shamed  into  not  sketching. 
Years  ago  I  had  no  such  feeling,  but  on  Wednesday  I  shrank 
from  attempting  to  carry  away  in  brown  any  impression  of  a 
beauty  which  was  really  infinite.  I  was  glad  to  hear  your 
impressions  of  the  Bishop  of  Manchester.  My  own  have 
been  derived  from  different  sources,  and  I  suppose  that 
various  occurrences  have  interrupted  my  old  cordiality.  Per 
haps  I  may  think  that  I  have  personally  some  cause  for 
complaint,  but  I  am  not  sure  that  it  is  so,  and  I  only  say 
this  that  you  may  not  attach  any  weight  to  the  adverse  judg 
ment  which  I  am  forced  to  form  of  the  Bishop's  conduct. 
His  whole  career  as  a  bishop  seems  to  me  to  have  been 
one  series  of  disasters.  But  his  language  about  Essays  and 
Reviews  roused  my  indignation  beyond  expression.  On  this 
subject  at  least  I  can  judge  for  myself  how  far  he  has  any 
right  to  give  expression  to  such  an  opinion  in  such  a  manner. 
But  while  I  cannot  agree  with  you,  I  can  indeed  rejoice  that 
you  see  things  very  differently.  It  would  be  sad  indeed  if 
'we  are  to  believe  that  there  is  no  good  except  the  good  which 
we  ourselves  see  and  prize,  and  I  know  that  there  is  very, 
very  much  which  I  do  not  value  rightly.  Unfairness  in  others 
almost  makes  me  blind  to  their  excellences. 

You  will  come  up  to  the  Exhibition,  I  suppose,  and  if  so 
we  shall  hope  to  see  you  with  us.  There  are  yet  nooks  in 

280          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

the  house  unoccupied,  and  we  trust  that  Alder  may  come 
too. — With  kindest  remembrances,  ever  yours  affectionately, 



DOVERCOURT,  ^rd  Aug.  1861. 

My  dear  Davies — It  has  not  been  forgetfulness  or  want 
of  interest  which  has  so  long  delayed  my  thanks  for  your 
welcome  present  of  your  essay  on  The  Signs  of  the  King 
dom  of  Heaven.  You  would  anticipate  with  how  much 
pleasure  I  should  read  it,  and  with  what  hearty  assent  I 
should  receive  all  your  positive  teaching.  It  struck  me,  how 
ever,  that  you  did  not  (I  do  not  know  who  does)  fairly  face 
the  question  of  the  Resurrection  as  a  miracle.  This  fact, 
unless  I  am  mistaken,  is  the  very  centre  of  the  Apostolic 
teaching,  and  I  am  particularly  anxious  to  get  it  placed  in 
that  light.  The  discussion  of  other  miracles  seems  to  be 
subordinate  to  that,  and  I  do  not  see  any  objections  to  which 
the  "  lesser  "  miracles  are  liable  which  do  not  lie  against  it ; 
while  conversely  the  relation  of  the  Resurrection  to  the  whole 
economy  of  Christianity  seems  to  me  to  furnish  the  true  ex 
planation  of  the  meaning  of  the  other  miracles. 

This  subject  has  occupied  a  great  deal  of  my  thought — 
as  far  as  I  have  been  able  to  think  lately — the  more  so  as  in 
all  the  miserable  disputes  about  Essays  and  Reviews  it  seems 
to  have  been  lost  sight  of,  and  I  should  be  very  glad  to 
know  if  you  agree  with  me  both  as  to  the  .importance  of  the 
question  and  as  to  the  popular  treatment  of  it. 

We  are  staying  at  a  singularly  quiet  little  place,  which 
seems,  however,  to  be  cheerful  and  bracing.  Bright  gleams 
of  sunshine  are  coming  over  the  sea  as  I  write,  and  to  watch 
the  endless  changes  of  colour  is  pleasure  enough  for  a  month's 
holiday.  Meanwhile  the  Volunteers  exercise  themselves  with 
artillery  practice,  and  just  opposite  is  a  fort  from  which  comes 
sounds  of  rifles  from  time  to  time,  lest  we  should  fancy  that 
we  have  reached  the  reign  of  perpetual  peace. — Ever  yours 
affectionately,  BROOKE  F.  WESTCOTT. 

v  HARROW  281 

To  THE  REV.  F.  J.  A.  HORT 

HARROW,  *]th  May  1862. 

.  .  .  Generally,  indeed,  I  feel  very  great  repugnance  to  the 
whole  work  of  revision.  I  do  not  see  my  way  to  a  positive 
result  nearly  so  clearly  as  I  once  did.  Perhaps  I  think  that 
the  result  of  labour  is  wholly  unequal  to  the  cost,  and  indeed 
too  often  worthless.  It  is  impossible  to  treat  the  Text 
mechanically,  and  equally  impossible  to  enter  as  one  could 
wish  into  the  subtle  points  of  interpretation  which  often  arise. 
I  cannot  express  to  you  the  positive  dislike — I  want  a  stronger 
term — with  which  I  look  on  all  details  of  spelling  and 
breathing  and  form.  How  you  will  despise  me  !  but  I  make 
the  frank  confession  nevertheless,  and  am  quite  prepared  to 
abide  by  it. 

HARROW,  8/A  December  1862. 

My  dear  Hort — The  residuary  difficulties  must  remain  for 
the  present.  We  have  evidently  come  to  fixed  points,  and 
for  Lightfoot's  purpose  absolute  agreement  is  unnecessary. 

Very  many  thanks  for  your  pencillings.  Several  points, 
as  you  would  notice,  will  be  modified  by  the  new  light  which 
I  seem  to  have  gained  since  the  article  was  printed — on  the 
groups  of  MSS.  in  the  Gospels  at  least.  I  can  think  of  no 
good  heading  instead  of  "  Mixed,"  but  certainly  shall  not  let 
this  stand.  Practically  I  believe  that  "  Western  "  will  prove 
right  with  the  subdivisions  Gallic  and  Irish,  but  I  dare  not 
yet  state  this.  I  intend  to  arrange  such  collations  as  I  shall 
make  in  an  interleaved  Cod.  Amiat.  This  will  bring  out,  I 
am  satisfied,  most  clearly  the  families  of  other  MSS.  It  is 
obvious  that  Amiat.  is  only  one  of  a  large  family  agreeing 
almost  literally  together,  and  thus  forming  a  complete  Hiero- 
nymian  standard.  .  .  .  On  Wednesday  and  Thursday  I 
hope  to  have  two  good  days  with  Bentley  at  the  British 
Museum,  and  on  Friday  a  day  at  Cambridge.  Having  done 
this,  I  shall  see  my  way  more  clearly.  .  .  . 

282          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

TO    THE    REV.    J.    B.     LlGHTFOOT 

HARROW,  26^/2  May  1863. 

My  dear  Lightfoot — I  am  quite  prepared  to  yield  to  your 
advice,  and  in  such  a  matter  would  far  rather  trust  your 
judgment  than  my  own.  Yet  it  seems  too  late.  It  occurred 
to  me  that  if  I  did  not  come  forward  you  would,  and  that 
would  be  at  least  as  good  and  more  certain.  However,  I 
have  written  to  Jeremie  asking  him  to  fix  gib.  June  for  the 
act.  We  have  a  holiday  on  that  day,  and  I  could  come  up 
without  any  very  great  difficulty.  He  has  chosen  the  thesis 
which  I  like  least,  for  it  is  worn  thoroughly  threadbare  long 
ago  :  "  Testamentum  Vetus  Novo  non  contrarium  est."  When 
I  hear  from  him  again  I  will  ask  you  to  publish  the  notice 
for  me.  No  harm  at  least  can  be  done  by  the  exercise.  At 
present  I  do  not  know  who  the  Council  are,  so  that  I  am  in 
the  dark  as  to  my  prospect.  Dr.  Vaughan  comes  here  on 
Tuesday,  and  I  shall  talk  the  matter  over  with  him. — Ever 
yours,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 

HARROW,  i$thjune  1863. 

My  dear  Lightfoot — What  a  strange  activity  there  seems 
to  be  among  the  publishers  !  I  had  made  no  definite  promise 
to  Rivington,  but  said  that  my  share  in  the  work  would 
depend  in  a  great  measure  upon  you ;  yet,  as  you  would  see 
from  my  note,  I  do  feel  anxious  that  we  should  undertake 
the  task  together,  however  arduous  it  may  undoubtedly  be.  I 
have  less  faith  in  the  "  Episcopal "  Commentary  than  in  Dr. 

Pusey's,    if  indeed    they    are    different.      Of  I    know 

nothing,  except  what  Ewald  says  of  him  in  a  review  of  the 
Dictionary.  But  at  least  I  am  satisfied  that  such  a  Com 
mentary,  to  be  useful,  should  be  by  men  who  are  not  officially 
committed ;  and  my  faith  is  in  young  men  who  have  grown 
up  with  us.  As  for  Rivington's  plan,  it  is  at  present  in  a 
very  unformed  shape,  as  far  as  I  can  learn,  and  I  can  imagine 
that  he  would  leave  the  arrangement  of  the  whole  to  his 
editors.  It  is  at  least  evident  that  you  would  have  far  more 

v  HARROW  283 

freedom  than  with  a  Committee  (even  shadowy)  in  the  back 
ground.  Fancy on  Biblical  Criticism  ! 

The  appearance  of  rivalry  is  that  which  troubles  me  most, 
yet  I  do  not  see  how  it  can  be  wholly  avoided.  Evidently 
the  work  will  cost  much  to  those  who  direct  it.  It  is  easy 
to  foresee  much  reproach  and  very  little  credit ;  yet  if  we  can 
write  I  am  sufficiently  sanguine  to  hope  that  we  might  do 
something  not  without  use.  On  the  other  hand,  I  see  com 
paratively  little  prospect  of  good  service  to  the  whole  cause 
in  doing  a  part  only  of  a  Commentary  under  guidance  and 
general  superintendence.  Thus  again  I  fall  back  upon  my 
old  arguments.  If  we  see  a  fair  hope  of  shaping  an  honest  and 
reverent  Commentary  I  think  that  we  are  really  bound  not  to 
shrink  from  the  labour.  If  men  fail  us  when  we  make  the 
effort,  then  we  can  retire.  If  we  can  find  men  for  the  work,  then 
I  would  gladly  venture  all  tVayamfo/xevos  rrj  aA^&t'p.  If,  how 
ever,  you  fail — absit  omen — my  heart  too  would  fail  me,  I  fear. 

I  like  the  appearance  of  Galatians  very  much,  and  am 
delighted  to  see  it.  Dare  I  pledge  myself  for  Hort  ? — Ever 
yours  affectionately.  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 

HARROW,  2nd  July  1863. 

My  dear  Lightfoot — It  certainly  does  seem  that  we  shall 
have  no  definite  ground  to  stand  upon,  if  Mr.  Cook  admits 
the  principle,  which  would  have  been  in  some  measure  our 
starting-point.  It  really  seems  necessary  in  some  way  to 
explain  to  Rivington  that  the  ground  which  we  should  wish 
to  occupy  is  occupied.  .  .  . 

HARROW,  ^thJuly  1863. 

My  dear  Lightfoot — When  I  returned  home  I  found  a 
note  from  Mr.  Cook  giving  a  general  account  of  his  scheme, 
and  asking  me  to  take  part  in  the  O.T.  Of  course 
I  declined  to  have  anything  to  do  with  the  O.T.,  but  at 
the  same  time  I  threw  out  a  hint  that  I  might  perhaps 
take  an  Apokryphal  book  if  they  were  included ;  but  on  the 
whole  I  should  rather  not  join.  .  .  . 

Rivington  wishes  for  suggestions  as  to  some  other  work 
or  series  of  works  on  Theology  which  are  needed.  Do  you 

284          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

not  think  that  a  Dictionary  of  Ecclesiastical  Antiquities  is 
greatly  wanted?  Nothing  special  has  been  done  since  Suicer, 
and  the  work  is  both  innocent  and  might  do  some  good  if  done 
well,  unless  I  am  mistaken,  by  English  scholars.  Have  you 
ever  thought  of  it?  But  this  is  perhaps  premature.  The 
idea  is  worth  turning  over.  .  .  . 

2%th  October  1863. 

My  dear  Lightfoot — I  do  not  feel  quite  satisfied  about 
Ephesians  till  I  hear  that  you  have  taken  the  Pastoral  Epistles. 
Tell  me  this,  and  I  shall  then  feel  that  I  do  right  in  taking 
the  Epistle.  .  .  .  However,  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  talk 
this  over  in  Cambridge.  For  my  own  part,  I  cannot  begin 
work  till  after  Christmas,  when  the  "  Little  Canon  "  will  be 
off  my  hands,  which  I  have  enjoyed  more  than  anything 
except  the  Vulgate. — Ever  yours  affectionately, 


HARROW,  2nd  July  1864. 

My  dear  Lightfoot — Of  course  I  don't  like  any  of  the 
title-pages.  Would  it  not  be  better  to  place  the  monogram 
on  the  opposite  page,  where  "  C.  J.  Clay "  stands  ?  At  least 
it  would  be  well  to  try  the  experiment.  At  present  the  page 
looks  heavy  with  the  monogram  at  the  bottom ;  and  if  it  is 
placed  in  the  middle  it  violates  the  sequence.  Moreover, 
"BY"  is  too  large.  It  ought  not  to  be  on  the  same  scale 
with  the  name.  Do  try  another  title  with  these  alterations.  .  .  . 
As  for  my  debt,  I  won't  pay  it  till  you  come  here,  and  I  wish 
the  sum  (vain  wish  !)  were  larger,  that  I  might  have  a  surer 
hold  upon  you.  Hort  is  very  anxious  to  know  how  the 
Galatians  is  progressing.  He  proposes  to  advertise  the  whole 
Commentary,  but  I  think  that  it  will  be  better  to  announce 
only  St.  James  for  him  and  St.  John's  Epistles  for  me.  .  .  . 

To  THE  REV.  F.  J.  A.   HORT 

HARROW,  22nd  September  [1864]. 

My  dear  Hort — It  is  hopeless :  day  after  day  I  have  been 
longing  to  write,  but  time  will  not  come,  and  I  cannot  make 

v  HARROW  285 

it.  The  old  Cambridge  receipt  has  vanished.  .  .  .  My 
summer  was  not  as  fruitful  as  I  had  wished ;  or  rather,  it 
was  not  fruitful  in  the  way  I  had  wished.  Dr.  Newman's 
Apologia  "  cut  across "  it,  and  opened  thoughts  which  I 
thought  had  been  sealed  for  ever.  These  haunted  me  like 
spectres,  and  left  little  rest.  The  Text  consequently  suffered 
terribly.  It  happened  that  Benson  and  his  family  were  also 
at  Swanage,  so  that  we  had  many  talks  about  the  Greek 
Testament,  but  again  and  again  the  old  Mediaeval  Church 
rose  up.  No  theory  which  I  know  fully  explains  its  relation 
to  the  Church.  When  shall  we  have  the  historic  develop 
ment  of  Christianity  treated  in  relation  to  the  Gospel  ?  You 
will  see  how  distracting  such  thoughts  as  these  must  have 
been.  And  now  the  weight  of  school  seems  heavier  than 

In  what  position  are  you  with  regard  to  the  Synoptists  ? 
I  can  see  nothing  better  than  our  beginning  a  common 
revision  as  soon  as  possible.  I  do  not  think  it  is  safe  for 
either  of  us  to  trust  to  working  alone.  .  .  . 

"  Grammar  "  I  simply  hate.  (Have  I  not  often  before  been 
as  violent  ?)  Sometimes  I  am  inclined  to  wish  that  we  had 
treated  spelling  as  Carlyle  has  treated  it,  or  the  editors  of 
Milton.  As  it  is,  I  should  propose  to  give  a  general  list  of 
the  variations  in  spelling,  etc.,  once  for  all,  with  very  short 
remarks,  and  to  disregard  all  "  grammatical  "  alternatives  in 
the  margin.  What  ycru  say  of  the  reduction  of  the  notes  to 
the  smallest  possible  compass  absolutely  expresses  my  wish. 
Lightfoot  has  used  the  Lachmann  type ;  how  far,  I  do  not 
know,  and  I  do  not  know  whether  it  exists  in  a  small  form. 
Nothing  could  be  better  for  quotations. 

The  punctuation  should  be,  of  course,  as  simple  as 
possible.  .  .  . 

To  THE  REV.  E.  W.  BENSON 

HARROW,  $Qth  November  1864. 

My  dear  Benson — How  ungrateful  you  must  have  thought 
me  for  your  letter,  so  full  of  pleasant  memories ;  and  yet, 
perhaps,  you  had  more  charity  than  to  pass  an  unjust 

286          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

judgment.  This  term,  in  fact,  has  been  full  of  distractions 
and  business.  Since  I  left  Swanage  I  have  ceased  to  think 
and  read,  and  scarcely  believe  that  such  a  time  of  refreshment 
was  real.  But  now  again  the  holidays  are  beginning  to  be 
seen  through  the  thick  darkness  of  Examination,  which  is 
coming  over  us.  ...  I  have  done  literally  nothing  (grumbling, 
I  hope,  is  nothing)  all  the  term.  Even  The  Guardian  letters 
on  "  Inspiration  "  have  failed  to  move  me.  Once  indeed, 
for  about  five  minutes,  I  had  serious  thoughts  of  writing  to 
Mr.  Lake  about  Origen,  to  whom  he  certainly  does  not  do 
justice,  but  the  impulse  was  soon  subdued  by  the  pressure  of 
thirty-six  boys.  But  it  would  be  a  poor  return  for  your  cheer 
ful  letter  to  answer  it  by  complaining.  My  hammer  is  buried 
under  a  pile  of  boxing-gloves,  which  I  captured  a  few  weeks 
ago,  but  we  will  trust  that  it  will  be  disinterred  some  time. 
Meanwhile,  if  you  have  become  a  geologist,  the  summer  will 
not  have  been  badly  spent.  I  long  to  work  again  at  the 
Purbecks.  .  .  . 

AsHBY-DE-LA-ZouCH,  22nd  December  1864. 

My  dear  Benson — We  have  been  in  a  constant  whirl  since 
we  left  you,  or  I  should  have  written  before  to  thank  you  and  say 
once  again  how  heartily  we  enjoyed  our  visit  to  Wellington 
College.  .  .  .  Did  I  not  leave  the  specimen  pages  of  the 
Greek  Testament  on  your  table  ?  If  you  see  them,  may  I  ask 
you  to  send  them  to  me  ?  I  wrote  to  the  Bishop  of  Man 
chester  yesterday,  and  if  I  should  visit  him  I  should  like  to 
take  them  with  me.  .  .  . 

MOSELEY,  >]th  January  1865. 

.  .  .  What  I  meant  to  say  as  to  the  relation  of  the 
Resurrection  and  the  Ascension  was  simply  this,  that  for  us 
the  Ascension  is  the  necessary  complement  of  the  Resurrec 
tion.  We  cannot  think  of  the  latter  historic  fact  without 
such  a  completion.  The  Ascension  belongs  to  a  new  order  of 
existence,  of  which  at  present  we  have  and  can  have  no  idea 
in  itself.  It  is  not,  so  to  speak,  in  the  same  line  of  life  with 
the  Resurrection.  It  becomes  real  to  us  now  only  by  the 
present  gift  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  The  Resurrection  was  the 

v  HARROW  287 

victory  of  death  and  potential  entrance  to  life,  but  what  that 
life  was  to  which  the  Ascension  was  the  immediate  entrance, 
is  as  yet  a  mystery.  However  much  I  may  wish  to  maintain 
that  the  Resurrection  and  the  Ascension  are  both  facts,  yet  I 
am  forced  to  admit  that  they  are  facts  wholly  different  in 
kind,  and  for  us  the  historical  life  of  the  Lord  closes  with  the 
last  scene  on  Olivet,  though  I  do  not  forget  the  revelations 
to  St.  Stephen  and  St.  Paul. 


{January  1865]. 

My  dearest  Mary — I  use  the  episcopal  paper  for  a  good 
omen  (?)  to  make  preparation  for  the  preferment  of  Llan,  etc. 
The  dignity  will  compensate  for  the  smallness.  Really  my 
portmanteau  is  bewitched.  I  believe  a  Nixie  is  in  it.  Yester 
day  I  watched  over  it  like  a  dragon,  and  twice  I  was  on  the 
very  point  of  losing  it.  It  will  go  wrong.  If  I  say  Birming 
ham,  the  porter  insists  on  Banbury.  If  I  say  Stockport,  the 
guard  affirms  that  I  say  Stafford,  and  so  my  journey  was  one 
long  anxiety.  However,  it  came  to  an  end,  and  I  saw  the 
Bishop  on  the  platform,  and  soon  after  the  portmanteau  on 
his  carriage,  and  so  my  troubles  were  over.  Nothing  could 
be  kinder  than  his  reception.  Mrs.  Lee  is  away,  so  that 
we  were  talking  the  whole  evening  of  Birmingham, 
and  then  of  Greek  Testament.  There  was  not  the  slightest 
loss  of  power,  but  every  faculty  was  as  fresh  and  vigorous 
as  ever,  and  so  I  could  go  to  school  again.  To-day  the 
Bishop  goes  into  Manchester,  and  I  shall  go  with  him, 
and  perhaps  we  may  not  return  till  after  post  time,  so  that  I 
write  this  note  before  breakfast.  This  morning  there  is 
bright  sunshine,  but  I  am  afraid  it  will  be  treacherous.  I  do 
hope  my  little  visit  may  do  good.  To  be  alone  in  this  great 
house  seems  even  to  my  solitary  nature  very  sad.  I  must 
write  this  evening  to  the  railway  people.  It  is  now  raining 
heavily  as  usual.  With  love  to  all,  ever  your  most 
affectionate  BROOKE  F.  WESTCOTT. 

288          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 
To  THE  REV.  F.  J.  A.  HORT 

HARROW,  lyhjamtary  1865. 

My  dear  Hort — I  hope  to  send  to-morrow  the  last  two 
chapters  of  St.  Matthew.  The  work  grows  somewhat  easier,  I 
think,  as  it  goes  on,  but  it  always  brings  its  characteristic 
headache.  I  must  have  the  new  Tischendorf.  The  adver 
tisement  which  I  saw  gave  me  the  same  idea  of  the  book 
which  you  give.  His  changes  show,  what  is  abundantly 
evident  elsewhere,  that  he  really  has  no  very  clear  ideas 
about  the  Text.  I  am  more  and  more  struck  with  the 
phenomena  of  distinct  recensions,  or  whatever  else  they  may 
be  called.  But  indeed  it  is  very  long  since  D.  made  me 
give  expression  to  the  belief  in  the  existence  of  co-existent 
types  of  Text  at  the  earliest  period  to  which  we  can  descend. 
.  .  .  For  the  rest,  my  visit  to  my  old  master  was  even  more 
enjoyable  than  I  had  ventured  to  hope.  For  me  he  was  far 
more  the  old  master  than  the  Bishop.  We  avoided  modern 
polemics — at  least  I  did;  and  on  the  two  subjects  on  which  I 
ventured  to  give  a  decided  opinion,  the  Irish  Church  and  the 
Court  of  Appeal,  I  found  consideration,  if  not  entire  consent. 
In  conversation  I  gathered  some  new  traits  of  Bunsen  and 
Arnold.  You  can  scarcely  fancy  with  what  indignation  Tom 
Brown  was  characterised.  From  what  I  heard  I  feel  (as  you 
hinted)  that  the  true  portrait  of  Arnold  has  yet  to  be  drawn. 
The  sterner  and  stronger  features  of  his  imperious  nature 
have  yet  to  be  given  their  true  proportions.  .  .  . 


HARROW,  i6tk January  1865. 

My  dear  Mr.  Macmillan — On  the  whole,  and  after  much 
thought,  I  have  almost  decided  that  it  will  be  best  to  reprint 
the  Canon  and  the  Introduction  (when  it  is  required) 
as  they  are,  and  uniform.  They  have  a  certain  coherence 
and  completeness  as  they  are.  If  a  larger  book  were  ever 
required,  I  should  prefer  to  take  the  Bible  in  the  Church^ 
and  fill  it  up  with  references  and  arguments  in  detail.  But  I 



doubt  very  much  whether  such  a  book  is  wanted,  and  still 
more  whether  I  should  have  patience  to  make  it.  Dr.  Light- 
foot  strongly  urges  a  simple  reprint  of  the  Canon,  and  I 
am  much  influenced  by  his  judgment  on  such  a  point.  .  .  . 

TO    THE    REV.    J.    B.    LlGHTFOOT 

HARROW,  zist  March  1865. 

My  dear  Lightfoot — The  Galatians  and  your  note  came 
together.  .  .  . 

The  Epistle  was  a  most  cheering  sight — cheering  as  my 
own  venture  lies  far  off.  The  hastiest  glance,  which  is  all 
that  I  can  yet  give  it,  shows  me  that  it  will  fulfil  all  our 
hopes,  and  need  I  add  more?  I  do  most  heartily  rejoice 
that  Cambridge  sends  forth  such  a  book  at  such  a  time. 
May  it  bring  the  Church  at  large  rich  blessing,  and  yourself 
fresh  strength  and  hope. — Ever  yours  affectionately, 


To  THE  REV.  F.  J.  A.  HORT 

HARROW,  loth  January  1866. 

.  .  .  Ecce  Homo  I  saw  on  Lightfoot's  table  for  a  few  minutes. 
You  will  imagine  that  I  felt  its  defects  far  more  than  its 
merits.  I  cannot  think  that  any  estimate  of  our  Lord's  work 
and  person  which  starts  from  its  ethical  aspect  can  be  other 
than  fatally  deceptive.  This  was  not  that  which  the  Apostles 
preached,  and  not  this  could  have  conquered  the  world.  I 
feel  more  strongly  than  I  dare  express  that  it  is  this  so-called 
Christian  morality  as  "the  sum  of  the  Gospel,"  which  makes 
Christianity  so  powerless  now. 

I  am  very  glad  that  St.  James  advances.  As  for  St.  John, 
I  have  settled  in  a  great  measure  what  I  shall  try  to  do.  .  .  . 

HARROW,  zbthjunc  1866. 

My  dear  Hort — The  tidings  of  your  note  were  not 
unexpected  after  what  I  had  heard  a  day  or  two  since  from 
Mrs.  de  Morgan.  Hitherto  we  have  been  spared  losses 
in  our  family  so  completely  that  I  feel  as  if  my  sympathy 

VOL.  I  U 

29o          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

with  you  must  fall  short  of  what  it  would  be  if  I  were  better 
trained  in  sorrow.  In  the  presence  of  that  great  teacher  I 
fancy  that  common  thoughts  grow  dim,  and  what  seemed 
clear  before  is  then  at  last  found  to  be  other  than  we  had 
judged.  And  yet  our  little  lives  do  seem  to  me  to  be  such 
fragments  of  the  whole  even  of  our  life ;  conscience  seems  to 
acquiesce  so  completely  in  the  sacrifice  of  them  even  in  war, 
that  it  seems  as  if  faith  could  follow  those  who  leave  us  with 
a  continuity  of  love  into  the  unseen,  not  as  into  a  strange 
place,  but  as  into  a  place  more  truly  our  own  than  this.  It 
is  very  hard  to  judge  in  any  way  rightly  what  is  the  worth  of 
this  earthly  life  of  ours ;  and  I  am  sure  that  we  are  tempted 
equally  to  prize  it  too  highly  and  too  little.  The  tone  of 
our  own  Burial  Service,  or  of  that  wonderful  transcription  of 
it  in  Handel's  March,  is  that  which  I  strive — when  I  can 
strive — to  reach  to.  The  strain  ends  with  a  voice  of  triumph. 
So  may  it  be  for  us  !  To-morrow  we  shall  think  of  you.  .  .  . 

TO    THE    REV.    J.    B.    LlGHTFOOT 

HARROW,  2^th  October  1866. 

My  dear  Lightfoot — I  intend  to  turn  heresy-seeker.  The 
Churchman  (!)  I  see  praises  the  book  on  the  Canon  as  a 
necessary  article  in  a  clergyman's  library.  It  is  strange,  but 
all  the  questionable  doctrines  which  I  have  ever  maintained 
are  in  it.  Can  it  be  that  The  Churchman  has  profited  by  the 
^Eschylean  truth  ?  Haflei  pdOos.  If  there  is  anything  more 
to  be  told  about  Selwyn,  may  I  trust  to  your  information  ? * 
Here  I  am  quite  out  of  the  way  of  news. — Ever  yours, 


To  THE  REV.  F.  J.  A.  HORT 

%th  December  1866. 

.  .  .  The  account  which  you  give  of  Mr.  Maurice  is  very 
pleasant.  I  have  seen  no  notice  of  his  lecture.  We  are  at 

1  There  was  a  report  that  Professor  Selwyn  had  accepted  the  Deanery 
of  Norwich.  Had  this  been  the  case  my  father  would,  by  Professor 
Lightfoot's  advice,  have  been  a  candidate  for  the  Lady  Margaret  Pro 
fessorship  of  Divinity. 

v  HARROW  291 

the  beginning  of  the  end  now.  Ecce  signum  !  "  Methought 
she  trod  the  ground  with  greater  grace  "  =  "  Ut  decore  im- 
pressit  terram  cum  plure  putavi."  Is  not  that  a  cheerful 
result  in  the  Under  Sixth  ?  Examinations  are  not  encourag 
ing.  .  . 


HARROW,  I2th  March  1867. 

My  dear  Davies — I  was  most  glad  to  receive  your  Cam 
bridge  Sermons,1  which  came  most  opportunely  as  a  prepara 
tion  for  our  School  Communion.  Such  a  treatment  of  the 
subject  is  a  real  service  to  Truth,  and  it  had  the  more  direct 
interest  for  me  as  I  have  been  spending  all  my  leisure — how 
little ! — for  the  last  nine  months  on  the  Comtists.  How 
marvellous  that  it  should  be  left  for  them  to  rediscover 
some  of  the  simplest  teachings  of  Christianity ;  scarcely  less 
marvellous  than  that  Mr.  Mill  should  be  so  profoundly  and 
sincerely  ignorant  of  what  Christianity  is,  and  of  the  religious 
significance  of  Comtism,  as  all  he  writes  upon  them  both 
proves  him  to  be.  ...  You  can  hardly  fancy  how  sometimes 
I  long  for  leisure  to  speak  or  think  on  these  things.  Doubt 
less  if  it  came  the  leisure  would  be  a  burden.  I  do  feel  that 
it  ought  to  be  impossible  for  men  to  misrepresent  the  funda 
mental  ideas  of  Christianity,  and  yet  they  do  on  all  sides 
without  fear  of  contradiction  or  detection.  But  I  must  not 
attempt  to  write  more. — Ever  yours  affectionately, 


TO   THE    REV.    J.    B.    LlGHTFOOT 
(on  his  declining  the  Bishopric  of  Lichfield) 

HARROW,  2yd  November  1867. 

My  dear  Lightfoot — I  could  have  rejoiced  at  either 
decision,  because  I  am  sure  that  each  would  have  had  its 

1  Three  sermons  entitled  "  Morality  according  to  the  Sacrament  of  the 
Lord's  Supper,"  afterwards  incorporated  in  The  Gospel  and  Modern  Life. 

292          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

blessing.  But  every  hour's  consideration  convinces  me  that 
on  the  whole,  as  far  as  I  can  see,  what  has  been  chosen  is 
likely  to  be  most  for  the  glory  of  God  and  the  good  of  His 
Church.  May  the  work  thus  doubly  made  your  work  be 
more  and  more  abundantly  blessed ! — Ever  yours  affection 
ately,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 

To  THE  REV.  F.  J.  A.  HORT 

HARROW,  'jth  December  1867. 

My  dear  Hort — Your  note  is  an  immense  relief  to  me,  and 
I  must  ackno wedge  it  while  I  have  a  few  minutes  quiet.  I 
had  feared  that  I  was  quite  alone  in  the  advice  which  I  gave 
Lightfoot,  and  though  I  knew  that  his  own  heart  was  his  real 
counsellor,  yet  I  feared  that  I  might  perhaps  have  given  a 
bias  in  some  way  to  his  interpretation  of  its  promptings.  I 
never  doubted  when  I  could  reflect,  and  your  complete  coin 
cidence  with  the  grounds  of  my  conviction  removes  now  all 
passing  misgivings.  More  and  more  I  am  convinced  that 
the  work  of  the  Church  must  be  done  at  the  Universities — 
nay,  at  Cambridge.  It  is  too  late  to  shape  men  afterwards, 
even  if  they  could  be  reached.  Everything  forces  me  into 
the  belief  that  the  only  possible  organisation  of  a  spiritual 
power — the  paramount  want  of  the  time — is  there,  and 
that  there  it  is  possible.  I  do  most  heartily  rejoice  that 
you  say  almost  as  much.  I  hope  that  the  Bishop  of  London 
knows  that  you  think  so.  I  am  afraid  that  I  may  have 
seemed  self-willed  to  him.  How  much  I  should  have  liked 
to  talk  of  these  things,  but  I  must  not  think  of  going  out 
this  Christmas.  My  Cambridge  engagement  is  an  act  of 
incredible  (and  irreparable)  rashness  committed,  I  suppose, 
once  in  a  lifetime.  Perhaps  it  is  well  that  I  shall  have  a 
week's  hard  work  there.  My  late  sorrow  has  been  a  strange 
experience.1  ...  I  will  look  over  the  revise  in  a  few  days. — 
Ever  yours  affectionately,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 

1  The  death  of  his  father. 

v  HARROW  293 


HARROW,  zznd January  1868. 

My  dear  Lightfoot — Hort  tells  me  to-day  that  at  Joseph 
Mayor's  suggestion  he  is  meditating  offering  himself  for 
Hulsean  Lecturer.  I  have  strongly  urged  him  to  do  so.  It 
would  be  an  immense  gain  to  him  to  produce  something,  and 
when  the  plunge  is  once  made  he  will  feel  the  good  which 
comes  from  it  in  many  ways.  I  cannot  but  hope  that  you 
will  feel  with  me,  though  you  are  not  equally  free  to  speak. 

Benson  spent  Sunday  with  us.  He  seemed  remarkably 
well.  I  tried  to  make  him  see  the  true  relative  position  of 
Cambridge  and  Lichfield.  He  had  not  realised  that  the 
former  must  be  the  seat  of  the  spiritual  power  of  the  nine 
teenth  century. — Ever  yours,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 

To  THE  REV.  E.  W.  BENSON 

HARROW,  ist  February  1868. 

My  dear  Benson — Very  many  thanks  for  your  note,1  which 
was  a  real  comfort  to  us.  What  a  noble  transformation  is 
figured  in  that  word  "sister"  in  the  Burial  Service.  How 
easy  too  in  such  a  case  to  present  the  simple  type  which  we 
have  known  for  a  time  in  an  abiding  shape.  .  .  . 

To  THE  REV.  F.  J.  A.  HORT 

HARROW,  ztfhjtily  1868. 

...  It  is  a  great  relief  to  me  to  find  that  you  agree  with 
what  I  have  said  about  Comtism.  Your  former  note  rather 
alarmed  me,  and  I  should  have  been  distressed  if  we  had 
differed  in  fundamentals.  More  and  more  I  wish  that  you 
would  put  on  paper  your  thoughts  on  the  great  subject  of  which 
you  spoke  at  the  beginning  of  the  year.  More  and  more  we 
seem  to  need  to  go  to  the  beginnings  of  things.  Those  who 

1  Dr.  Benson's  note  of  sympathy  in  the  matter  of  the  death  of  his  god 
daughter  Constance  is  published  in  his  Life,  i.  257. 

294          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

hold  the  truth  seem  to  hold  it  irrationally.  I  can  dimly 
imagine  a  new  way  for  establishing  old  beliefs.  There  is  not 
surely  any  other  complete  definition  of  religion  than  "the 
co-ordination  of  God,  man,  the  world." 

On  the  Irish  Church  we  agree  in  everything  apparently 
but  the  conclusion.  I  could  not  have  signed  the  petition, 
because  it  was  used  for  a  purpose  with  which  I  have  no 
sympathy.  For  a  State  to  divest  itself  of  its  religion  seems 
to  be  as  sad  a  spectacle  as  can  be  conceived.  .  .  . 


HARROW,  1st  August  1868. 

The  Philippians  came  yesterday.  I  had  time  only  to  read 
the  preface  and  the  end,  with  both  of  which  I  agree  most 
heartily.  What  a  pleasure  it  is  to  read  what  one  would 
gladly  have  written.  We  don't  differ  so  much  as  you  pro 
fessed  about  the  Stoics. 

The  Bibles  have  nearly  crushed  me.  I  am  longing  to 
think  uninterruptedly  about  the  "  spiritual  power "  which  is 
to  be  organised  at  Cambridge.  You  must  come  to  Langland 
to  be  made  pontiff. — Ever  yours,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 


MOSELEY,  8M  September  1868. 

.  :  .  What  you  say  of  the  Irish  Church  is,  I  think,  most 
just.  Three  or  four  years  ago  I  implored  some  Conservative 
friends  to  press  the  question  upon  the  party.  Nothing  was 
done  and  now  there  is  chaos.  Of  the  two  parts  I  dread  dis 
establishment  more  than  disendowment.  A  free  Church 
may  be  the  end  towards  which  we  have  to  work,  but  at 
present  it  would  be  disaster.  The  clergy  are  not  educated 
for  government.  Disendowment  would  be  an  injury  to  the 
State  (on  Platonic  principles),  but,  as  I  firmly  believe,  a  gain 
to  the  Church.  But  what  is  "Establishment"?  Is  there 
not  very  strange  confusion  in  the  use  of  the  term  ?  To  me 
it  simply  means  legal  recognition  and  legal  obligation.  It 

v  HARROW  295 

may  be  difficult  to  fix  the  conditions  of  recognition ;  repre 
sentation  in  Parliament  is  certainly  not  one  of  them — those 
of  obligation  are  more  obvious.  I  can  imagine  nothing  more 
deplorable  than  for  a  State  to  become  without  a  religion.  I 
should  strive,  then,  to  the  uttermost  to  retain  a  Christian  body 
bound  to  administer,  when  called  upon,  every  Christian  rite  to 
every  subject.  This  the  establishment  in  Ireland  is  bound  to 
do,  and  I  see  no  way  of  imposing  the  obligation  on  any  other 
body.  I  feel  sure  that  this  is  \h.e.  positive  fact  to  hold  firmly.  I 
wish  that  we  could  talk  the  matter  over,  for  it  is  one  on  which 
I  am  anxious,  and  I  am  impatient  of  writing  when  words 
cannot  be  explained.  If  you  do  come  to  town  before  the 
election  time,  let  me  see  you. 

We  have  had  a  delightful  holiday  with  Drs.  Lightfoot, 
Benson,  J.  Wordsworth,  etc.,  at  Caswell  Bay,  near  Swansea. 

Kindest  remembrances  to  Lord  Bute.  —  Ever  yours 
affectionately,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 

To  THE  REV.  E.  W.  BENSON 

HARROW,  $M  November  1868. 

My  dear  Benson — How  heartily  I  wish  that  I  could  accept 
your  kind  invitation,  but  I  am  groaning  this  term  with  most 
ungrateful  vehemence,  and  can  scarcely  get  through  necessary 
work ;  but  I  do  look  forward  to  seeing  your  Bibles,  which  I 
envy  you  with  all  (venial)  envy. 

Advertise  Cyprian  at  once.  I  felt  sure  that  some  such 
good  result  would  follow.  Send  the  notice  to  Macmillan 
to-day,  and  let  it  first  appear  in  my  English  Bible,  which  is 
just  on  the  point  of  emerging. 

When  I  can  think,  I  think  of  little  else  than  the  "  spiritual 
power "  and  the  Ccenobium.  The  thoughts  seem  sent  to 
me,  and  yet  at  present  I  feel  too  weak  to  give  myself  up  to 
them.  In  a  day  or  two  I  will  send  you  a  few  words  which  I 
said  in  Chapel  bearing  remotely  on  the  subject,  which  Dr. 
Butler  thought  might  be  useful  if  printed.  Spanish  convents 
I  see  with  Mr.  Browning's  eyes.  ...  Do  send  the  title  of  Cyprian 
and  let  it  decorate  my  fly-leaf.  We  must  get  some  talk  before 
very  long. — Ever  yours  affectionately,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 

296          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

To  THE  REV.  F.  J.  A.  HORT 

HARROW,  2$tk  November  1868. 

My  dear  Hort — Your  note  relieved  me.  As  to  publishing 
the  Gospels  by  themselves,  shall  we  let  Macmillan  decide  ? 
My  impression  is  that  we  should  be  less  misunderstood  if  we 
gave  a  short  explanation  first  than  if  we  gave  a  long  one. 

I  fancy  that  the  wear  of  school  tells  seriously  upon  one's 
power  of  work.  I  find  that  I  can  read,  even  in  the  holidays, 
very  little ;  in  term  time  I  find  myself  (alas !)  becoming 
impatient  and  irritable,  as  well  as  exhausted.  There  surely 
ought  to  be  a  law  forbidding  any  one  to  be  a  schoolmaster 
more  than  fourteen  years.  Unhappily  the  saddest  thing  is 
that  the  exhaustion  which  the  work  brings  takes  away  hope, 
and  the  very  wish  for  hope.  There,  I  have  said  my  worst. 
Happily  I  have  still  strength  enough  to  read  at  intervals  a 
little  Browning  and  a  little  Comte.  The  former  might  be  a 
prophet,  but  I  am  afraid  that  he  won't  be  one,  or  rather  that 
he  will  tell  us  no  more. 

To-day  we  have  the  parody  of  an  election  inflicted  upon 
us.  Parti-coloured  omnibuses  express  very  fairly  the  character 
of  the  voters  who  fill  them.  How  many  thoughts  go  to  a 
vote  ?  How  many  convictions  or  principles  to  a  representa 
tive?  A  general  election  seems  to  prove  that  the  British 
Parliament  must  be  divine  or  it  could  never  survive  it.  Yet 
beneath  this  terrible  surface  there  must  be  something  better. 
But  how  can  we  get  a  sight  of  it  ? — dra/c€<£aA.ouc6a-ao-#cu  ra 
Travra  *v  X/M£. — Ever  yours  affectionately,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 


HARROW,  2nd  September  1869. 

My  dear  Benson — You  are  of  the  Old  Foundation,  I  of  the 
New,  and  I  find  it  very  hard  to  discover  what  my  duties  are, 
and  with  the  idea  of  the  Old  Foundation  I  am  quite  unfamiliar. 
We,  of  course,  have  nothing  really  corresponding  to  your 
"prebendaries."  The  honorary  canons  are  creatures  of  a 
later  age,  with  no  specific  duties  that  I  can  discover  except 

v  HARROW  297 

according  to  the  will  of  the  dean  and  chapter  for  the  time 
being,  who  have,  as  far  as  I  can  see,  no  power  whatever  of 
legally  enforcing  their  decisions.  The  legal  status  of  the 
New  Foundations  is  indeed  deplorable ;  that  of  the  Old  is,  I 
fancy,  in  much  legally  illegal.  However,  I  have  been  so 
much  moved  during  my  month's  residence  that  I  think  I 
must  find  expression  for  my  feelings  in  a  little  paper  on 
Cathedral  work.  It  may  be  wholly  too  late  to  attempt  any 
thing,  but  I  am  sure  that  Cathedrals  can  do  what  is  nowhere 
done,  and  what  is  more  than  ever  of  critical  importance  to 
the  Faith.  How  much  I  wish  we  could  talk  it  over.  How 
ever,  I  am  not  sure  that  I  shall  be  able  to  get  a  holiday. 
Mrs.  Westcott,  you  will  be  sorry  to  hear,  has  been  very  poorly, 
but  the  worst  is  over  now  I  fully  trust.  My  absence,  there 
fore,  has  been  full  of  anxiety,  for  I  did  not  return  till  yesterday 
evening.  We  long  to  hear  tidings  of  your  delightful  party. 

But  I  must  not  write  without  asking  if  you  and  Mrs. 
Benson  (pardon  the  order)  can  consent  to  restore  outwardly 
our  interrupted  connexion,  and  receive  Grace  as  your  god 
child  in  place  of  Connie.  Mrs.  Westcott  and  I  have  desired 
it  very  much,  and  I  am  commissioned  to  prefer  the  petition. 
With  heartiest  greetings  to  every  one,  ever  yours  affection 
ately,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 

To  THE  REV.  F.  J.  A.  HORT 

HARROW,  2ist  September  1869. 

My  dear  Hort — The  ordination  is  now  over,  and  I  hope 
to-day  to  set  to  work  upon  the  bundle  which  I  found  on  my 
return  from.  Peterborough  yesterday.  I  heartily  wish  that 
your  note  had  been  all  good  news.  Even  I  feel  the  depressing 
power  of  a  valley  ;  but  the  moors  will  bring,  I  trust,  freshness 
.again.  For  the  last  two  months  I  have  been  living  in  such 
excitement  that  I  cannot  tell  how  I  shall  be  able  to  use  my 
new  Harrow  leisure.  It  happened  when  I  went  for  two  days 
to  Brighton  I  saw  immediately  on  my  arrival  the  strange 
paragraph  about  Mr.  Gladstone  intending  to  offer  me  the 
rectory  of  Brightstone,  so  that  most  unwillingly  I  was  forced 
to  face  a  new  problem,  and  consider  how  I  should  act  if 


298          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

such  an  offer  were  made.  Last  week's  work  made  this,  I 
think,  quite  clear.  Already  there  are  signs  of  encouragement 
in  the  candidates,  and  the  Bishop  is  most  ready  to  sanction 
and  carry  out  any  suggestions.  The  Dictionary  alone  arises 
like  a  wall,  but  after  "  A  "  our  work  will  be  easier.  I  could 
scarcely  have  imagined  that  Christian  inscriptions  could  have 
been  so  devoid  of  interest.  Certainly  not  one  in  a  hundred 
offers  the  least  point  worthy  of  remark,  and  the  contents  of  a 
country  churchyard  would  have  far  more  literary  value  than 
the  whole  body  extant.  You  see  I  am  groaning  under  an 
unindexed  De  Rossi,  but  that  is  more  than  half  done.  .  .  . 


HARROW,  i$h  October  1869. 

My  dear  Davies — There  has  been  a  long  pause  in  the 
Dictionary.  For  many  reasons  I  have  been  glad,  for  it  has 
given  me  time  to  read  through  the  great  mass  of  Christian 
Inscriptions,  so  that  I  have  taken  no  pains  to  move  the 
printers  forward.  At  present  the  first  sheets — Ambrose  does 
not  come  in  them — are  being  finally  arranged  in  order  to  set 
free  some  type,  for  there  is  a  great  deal  standing.  After 
"  A "  I  do  hope  things  may  go  on  more  smoothly.  The 
ground  will  be  cleared,  but  at  present  we  have  to  feel  our  way 
in  every  direction,  and  all  the  while  wonder  whether  the 
little  names  are  worth  the  trouble  which  they  give. — Ever 
yours  affectionately,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 


HARROW,  2yd  October  1869. 

My  dear  Benson — I  have  much  to  thank  you  for — for  the 
interest  which  you  have  expressed  in  Grace,  for  your  note  of 
yesterday  when  you  found  that  you  could  not  come  to-day, 
for  your  criticisms,  for  your  encouragements — but  how  can  I 
do  it? 

As  for  Grace,  we  decided  at  once  to  defer  her  christening. 
Mrs.  Benson  holds  out  the  hope  that  you  may  be  able  to 

v  HARROW  299 

come  later,  and  we  could  not  give  up  the  thought  of  your 
visit  to  us.  So  we  will  wait. 

As  for  Cathedrals,  I  feel  ashamed  to  have  written  anything, 
but  at  the  time  it  seemed  impossible  to  refrain.  If  only  you 
will  follow  up  the  paper  by  a  view  of  the  Old  Foundation,  I 
shall  lay  aside  all  regret.  I  had  not  before  realised  the 
immense  differences  between  the  Old  and  the  New,  and 
though  "  in  private  duty  bound  "  I  attach  myself  to  the  latter, 
I  trust  that  you  will  tell  us  something  more  of  the  original 
constitution  of  English  Cathedrals.  It  is  not,  I  am  sure,  too 
late  to  save  them. 

All  this  is  personal,  but  I  have  to  thank  you  too  for  the 

letter  about  .     Though  I  regret  the  appointment — or 

rather 's  acceptance  of  it — I  did  rejoice  to  read  what 

you  said  of  him.  Some  things  you  had  said  to  me  before, 
but  the  public  testimony  showed  the  possibility  of  the 
deep  sympathy  which  binds  Christians  together  becoming  at 
some  time  visible.  Before  long  we  shall  hope  to  meet.  There 
is  (?)  a  year's  arrears  of  talk. — Ever  yours  affectionately, 


HARROW,  lath  December  1869. 

My  dear  Benson — I  have  not  thanked  you  for  your  letter. 
It  was  a  great  comfort  to  me.  There  is  nothing  new  in  the 
prospect  before  us,  but,  very  wrongly  and  weakly,  I  often  feel 
quite  alone.  Will  anything  short  of  the  Ccenobium  bring 
the  confession  of  sympathy  and  purpose  which  seems  to  be 
required  for  all  sustained  effort  ?  It  will  be  an  immense 
delight  to  see  you  in  our  Cathedral.  We  will  try  to  call  up 
some  of  its  lessons.  I  cannot  think  what  the  monks  did  in 
it.  Let  me  have  one  line  to  know  when  I  may  meet  you,  for 
our  precincts  are  a  labyrinth. — Ever  yours  affectionately, 


PETERBOROUGH,  2oth  April  1870. 

.  .  .  For  a  day  or  two  we  have  no  home.     I  left  Harrow 
on  Monday ;  Mrs.  Westcott  and  the  youngest  children  come, 

300          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT      CHAP,  v 

if  all  be  well,  to-morrow,  and  then  the  new  life  is  faced.  This 
much  by  way  of  preface. 

I  have  carefully  thought  over  your  note,  and  feel  no  doubt. 
The  same  kind  of  problem  had  occurred  to  me,  but  I  was 
then  clear,  for  myself  as  I  am  for  you,  that  pastoral  work  is 
the  work  of  a  lifetime,  and  that  the  work  of  teaching,  as  a 
rule,  should  be  kept  distinct  from  it.  If  you  took  a  parish, 
and  then  in  a  short  time  (as  I  hope)  passed  to  a  cathedral,  I 
think  that  the  interval  would  be  something  worse  than  a 
"loop."  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  your  present  work  is 
one  of  definite  and  peculiar  usefulness  to  which  you  have  had 
a  "  call."  It  seems  equally  clear  that  if  the  opportunity  arises 
you  ought  to  take  Cathedral  work,  which  in  some  sense  com 
pletes  and  carries  it  on.  It  does  not  seem  to  me  that  parochial 
work  lies  in  the  same  line.  .  .  . 

"  Constes  in  Gratia  " 1  was  at  least  fulfilled. — Ever  yours 
affectionately,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 

1  My  father's  departure  from  Harrow  was  saddened  by  the  death  of  his 
little  daughter  Grace  Constance.  Dr.  -  and  Mrs.  Benson  were  Grace's 
sponsors,  and  Dr.  Benson  had  given  her  a  little  gold  cross  with  the  above 



MY  father  was  installed  in  his  canonry  at  Peterborough 
on  the  festival  of  the  Epiphany,  1869.  In  the  follow 
ing  month  he  returned  there  for  work  in  connexion 
with  the  Bishop's  Lenten  ordination.  He  then  en 
countered  Peterborough  in  a  characteristic  condition — 
under  water.  He  describes  his  coming  to  the  city  in 
a  letter  to  his  wife  : — 

19^  February  1869. 

My  first  day's  work  is  now,  my  dearest  Mary,  drawing  to 
a  close,  though  I  have  still  my  papers  to  look  over.  The 
day  has  been  bright,  and  all  has  been  most  pleasant  and 
reverent.  Fate  threw  me  yesterday  into  sporting  company. 
Pray  tell  Mrs.  de  Morgan  that,  in  spite  of  the  clerical  accuracy 
of  my  costume,  and  the  breadth  of  brim  to  my  hat,  which  she 
admired  (justly),  the  first  remark  addressed  to  me  in  the  train 
was,  "  Have  you  been  to  the  races  to-day  ?  "  I  don't  know 
whether  it  makes  it  better  or  worse  that  my  querist  explained 
that  he,  for  his  part,  had  been  drinking  champagne  all  day. 
This  little  conversation  and  two  (successful)  protests  against 
smoking  constituted  the  whole  story  of  my  journey.  When 
we  reached  Peterborough  we  seemed  to  halt  on  an  island. 
The  reflection  of  lights  in  the  water  on  every  side,  white, 


302          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

green,  and  red,  reminded  me  of  the  Venetian  fete  at  Bruges. 
But  still  I  reached  the  Palace  in  an  omnibus  and  not  a 
gondola,  and  to-day  I  have  taken  a  walk  and  not  a  row.  So 
you  see  that  the  place  is  not  all  under  water.  .  .  . 

In  August  1869  he  entered  on  his  first  residence  as 
Canon.  His  house  was  not  yet  ready,  and  so  he  went 
alone  to  enter  on  his  new  work.  His  first  sermon  was 
preached  on  the  8th.  It  had  always  been  a  great  physical 
effort  to  him  to  preach,  even  in  such  a  comparatively 
small  building  as  the  Harrow  School  Chapel,  so  that  he 
was  full  of  anxiety  at  the  prospect  of  preaching  from  a 
Cathedral  pulpit.  He  was,  however,  cheered  by  the  sight 
of  a  large  congregation,  and  wrote  to  his  wife  to  tell 
her  that  he  was  not  more  than  usually  fatigued  after 
the  sermon,  but  had  not  dared  to  ask  whether  he  was 
audible.  His  voice  did,  as  he  had  anticipated,  marvel 
lously  improve  with  practice,  and  he  who  in  earlier 
life  had  not  dared  to  preach  in  a  large  church  was  not 
afraid  in  his  advanced  years  of  preaching  in  St.  Paul's 
Cathedral  or  York  Minster,  and  made  himself  fairly 
audible  even  in  the  Albert  Hall,  by  reason  of  the  great 
pains  he  bestowed  on  distinct  articulation. 

His  earliest  impressions  of  his  new  work  are  set 
down  in  the  following  letters  to  his  wife  : — 

iQth  Sunday  after  Trinity,  1869. 

It  is  a  memorable  day  which  is  drawing  to  a  close — the 
first  of  my  new  life.  It  has  been  intensely  exciting,  and  so 
far  fatiguing,  yet  not  without  hope.  You  have  doubtless 
been  often  with  me,  and  there  is  need  of  help  to  keep  one's 
faith  and  hope  alive  and  look  beneath  the  surface.  But  faith 
is  omnipotent  even  in  a  Cathedral  town. 

The   Bishop  goes  thoroughly  with  the  changes  which  I 


had  proposed,  and  as  far  as  his  counsel  and  countenance 
goes,  sanctions  them ;  but  there  is  evident  need  of  caution 
and  patience,  and  we  cannot  move  more  than  one  step  at 
a  time. 

In  the  afternoon  the  congregation  was  quite  large.  The 
only  drawback  was  the  music,  which  was  certainly  very  bad, 
in  execution  and  in  feeling.  Here  I  am  not  clear  as  to 
speedy  success. 

On  Tuesday  the  whole  weight  of  the  Cathedral  will  rest 
on  me.  The  Dean  goes,  and  the  Archdeacon,  and  Canon 
Argles.  At  present  I  find  that  I  cannot  muster  up  much 
dignity.  Perhaps  it  is  a  plant  which  will  grow  on  the  sunny 
side  of  a  Cathedral. 

2oth  August. 

I  expect  that  I  shall  burst  into  print  about  Cathedrals. 
Frankly,  I  see  nothing  to  be  said  for  them  as  they  are. 
They  have  no  work,  as  far  as  I  can  see,  to  plead.  Perhaps 
it  is  a  hard  judgment,  and  much  may  lie  beneath  the  surface, 
but  the  life  at  least  lies  hidden. 

The  days  sweep  by  and  are  certainly  exhausting,  but  the 
exhaustion  comes  chiefly  from  misgiving.  After  all,  it  may 
be  too  late  to  do  anything.  The  work  wants  a  younger  life 
and  a  free  one.  So  I  fancy,  yet  I  was  trying  to  show  last 
Sunday  among  other  things  that  it  would  be  terrible  to  reap 
all  one  sows,  though  we  are  impatient  to  do  so.  Good  is 
happily  not  an  annual. 

One  of  my  father's  earliest  innovations  was  a  quiet 
early  morning  service  in  one  of  the  side  Chapels  of  the 
Cathedral.  He  was  fearful  at  first  lest  he  should  have 
no  congregation  at  all  to  join  with  him.  He  wished 
the  townspeople  to  take  an  interest  in  these  8  o'clock 
services,  and  met  with  some  little  response  from  them. 
On  Wednesdays  and  Fridays  he  delivered  lectures  after 
the  early  Litany.  His  earliest  expositions  were  of  the 
Psalms,  but  in  later  years  he  took  St.  John's  Gospel  for 
his  subject. 

304          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

The  fruits  of  his  first  residence  were  published  in 
the  shape  of  a  small  volume  of  sermons  entitled,  The 
Christian  Life,  Manifold  and  One.  The  little  book  is 
dedicated  to  his  colleagues,  Dean  Saunders,  Archdeacon 
Davys,  and  Canons  Argles  and  Pratt.  Touching  their 
publication,  he  wrote  to  Mr.  A.  Macmillan  : — 

By  this  post  I  send  six  sermons — my  first  labours  at 
Peterborough — and  shall  be  much  obliged  if  you  can  kindly 
tell  me  how  much  they  would  cost  to  print  in  the  simplest 
possible  form  with  a  limp  cloth  cover.  I  should  like  to  be 
able  to  distribute  them  among  some  of  the  Cathedral  con 
gregation,  and  perhaps  others  might  care  to  see  them.  How 
ever,  I  am  not  inclined  nor  able  to  spend  much  upon  the 

A  sermon  preached  by  my  father  on  the  Franco- 
German  war  in  the  summer  of  1870  attracted  some 
notice.  Of  this  sermon  he  says  in  a  letter  to  his 
publisher : — 

My  hope  was  that  it  might  be  useful  as  a  tract,  perhaps  to 
boys.  You  see  that  I  feel  strongly  and  not  quite  popularly 
Will  you  take  the  trouble  to  say  how  many  may  be  printed, 
and  whether  it  needs  a  cover — probably  not.  I  think  it  may 
be  worth  2d. 

In  June  1870  Bishop  Magee  offered  my  father  the 
Archdeaconry  of  Northampton.  I  can  well  remember 
my  father,  in  one  of  his  playful  moods,  telling  us  what 
a  temptation  the  gaiters  were  to  him.  He  declined  the 
preferment,  however,  because  he  was  unwilling  to  accept 
an  Ecclesiastical  as  distinct  from  an  Educational  office. 
In  this  judgment  he  was  confirmed  by  Dr.  Lightfoot. 
To  accept  the  Archdeaconry  would  have  been  to  abandon 
the  hope  of  Cambridge  work.  When  he  received  the 
offer  he  thus  wrote  to  Professor  Lightfoot : — 


PETERBOROUGH,  ibthjune  1870. 

The  Bishop  has  just  offered  me  the  Archdeaconry  of 
Northampton.  It  is  not  a  very  valuable  piece  of  preferment 
as  far  as  income  is  concerned,  but  it  opens  a  distinct  sphere 
of  work.  It  entails  an  eight  months'  residence,  and  I  could 
not  hereafter  resign  it  without  resigning  my  canonry  too.  In 
the  present  case  I  should  exchange  canonries  with  Arch 
deacon  Davys,  a  process  which  could  not  be  repeated.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  office  might  have  life  put  into  it,  and 
be  made  really  an  archdiaconate,  a  means  of  training  the 
younger  clergy.  I  think  you  will  see  sufficiently  well  what 
the  reasons  for  and  against  are.  Help  me  then  to  decide. 

His  refusal  was  already  penned  when  he  received 
Dr.  Lightfoot's  reply,  advising  him  to  decline  the  offer. 
Thus  assured  that  he  had  done  right,  he  desired  that 
no  more  might  be  said  about  the  matter. 

The  move  to  Peterborough  was  a  great  venture 
of  faith  on  my  father's  part.  He  had  a  large  family 
to  educate,  and  yet  he  exchanged  the  comparative 
opulence  of  a  Harrow  house  master  for  the  precarious 
income  attached  to  a  canonry  in  an  impoverished 
Chapter.  Our  manner  of  life  was  already  adapted 
to  the  idea  of  the  Ccenobium  in  its  strict  simplicity, 
so  the  only  luxury  that  could  be  abolished  was  meat 
for  breakfast,  which,  however,  was  retained  as  a  Sunday 
treat.  No  means  being  forthcoming  for  the  customary 
summer  outing,  my  father  was  induced  to  avail  him 
self  of  a  continental  chaplaincy  and  take  his  holiday 
alone.  He  failed,  however,  to  derive  any  pleasure  or 
^benefit  from  this  solitary  excursion,  and  returned  much 
discouraged.  On  his  way  to  his  destination,  Gersau, 
he  traversed  the  fringe  of  the  great  war  then  raging, 
and  wrote  some  long  descriptive  letters,  from  which 
these  passages  are  taken  :— 

VOL.  I  X 

306          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

COLOGNE,  30^  August  1870. 

.  .  .  The  train  by  which  we  came  showed  us  the  first 
signs  of  the  war.  It  brought  a  small  detachment  of  men  of 
different  regiments — vigorous,  manly -looking  fellows.  On 
leaving  the  station  I  saw  a  train  crammed  with  soldiers 
coming  from  the  north,  and  the  whole  city  swarms  with 
them.  Nearly  every  man  has  a  pipe  in  his  mouth,  and  they 
step  along  with  a  will,  not  as  if  they  had  any  misgiving. 
Most  of  those  whom  I  have  met  here  wear  the  bronze  cross 
for  the  Austrian  war. 

While  I  had  tea  I  looked  at  the  numbers  of  Kladderdatsch 
— the  German  Punch.  It  is,  of  course,  filled  with  the  war. 
A  rather  spirited  poem  on  Napoleon,  "  The  Living  Dead," 
struck  me.  He  is  supposed  to  go  round  his  camp  and  find 
every  one  treat  him  as  non-existent.  Some  of  the  drawings 
are  good.  One  specially  struck  me.  A  French  soldier — one 
of  the  keen  wild  type — is  looking  into  a  looking-glass,  marked 
La  Grande  Nation,  "  on  one  fine  August  morning,"  and  sees, 
instead  of  the  reflection  of  his  own  face,  a  stout  Prussian 
guardsman.  Another  was  amusing,  addressed  to  the  Zouaves' 
friends,  i.e.  the  German  ladies,  who  are  supposed  to  pet  them. 
A  gay  lady  is  attending  to  a  group  of  them,  while  a  laurel- 
crowned,  burly  Prussian  stands  by  and  quietly  remarks,  "If 
you  forget  us  completely,  Mam'selle,  we  won't  bring  you  any 
more  of  the  wild  beasts."  .  .  . 

DARMSTADT,  August  1870. 

.  .  .  We  met  train  after  train  filled  with  soldiers — some 
grenadiers  of  the  guard,  a  volunteer  regiment  of  students,  and 
regiments  of  the  line.  All  were  full  of  spirits ;  nearly  all 
smoking;  many  singing.  On  the  carriages  was  chalked  over 
and  over  again  "  Eilgut  nach  Paris,"  and  the  inscription  was 
the  wittier  since  the  carriages  were,  for  the  most  part,  those 
used  for  light  merchandise,  hastily  fitted  with  light  benches. 
At  Bonn  we  saw  the  litters  for  the  wounded  for  the  first  time. 
There  were  also  enormous  trains  of  stores,  flour  apparently, 
and  cattle  and  the  like.  These  came  in  quick  succession  till 
we  reached  the  station  where  the  line  to  Saarbrueck  goes  off. 



Just  now  a  great  train  of  soldiers  has  come  in  singing.  They 
have  come  from  Mecklenberg,  travelling  day  and  night.  The 
provision  for  sleeping  is  very  simple  .  .  .  but  the  men  are 
merry  enough.  After  a  few  minutes  of  lively  confusion  the 
bugle  sounds  and  they  all  mount,  and  the  train  passes  on. 
Now  another  comes  in ;  this  time  with  cavalry — singularly 
fine  men  in  a  gay  light  blue  uniform.  They  do  not  wait 
long,  and  another  train  comes.  I  went  on  to  the  platform 
to  look  at  them,  and  joined  with  the  people  in  cheering  them 
off.  Before  they  had  cleared  the  station  another  train  came 
in  from  the  opposite  direction :  this  time  with  the  wounded. 
It  was  strange  to  see  the  two  actually  side  by  side,  and  to 
place  cheers  and  sighs  together.  However,  these  men  were 
only  slightly  wounded,  with  hands  and  arms  lost  and  the  like. 
As  the  poor  fellows  dismounted  I  did  not  like  to  stay  long  to 
look  at  them,  but  went  back  to  think  of  the  two  sides  of  the 
war  picture.  .  .  . 

The  spire  of  Strasburg  was  clearly  visible.  From  time  to 
time  we  thought  that  we  could  see  little  puffs  of  white  smoke, 
and  a  great  column  of  black  smoke  marked  some  fire  or  other. 
But  we  could  hear  no  firing.  Even  into  Basle  the  tokens  of 
war  followed  us.  Just  as  I  had  reached  my  room  a  band  was 
heard,  and  a  regiment  of  Swiss  soldiers  marched  by  in  full  order, 
the  remnant,  I  suppose,  of  the  force  which  was  collected  to 
guard  the  frontiers.  .  .  . 

My  father  communicated  some  of  his  views  on 
"  Cathedral  Work  "  to  Macmillan's  Magazine,  in  a  paper 
which  appeared  in  January  and  February  1870.  At 
the  outset  he  remarks  : 

Four  great  principles,  as  it  seems,  underlie  the  constitution 
which  is  outlined  in  all  Cathedral  statutes.  Two  contain  the 
trieory  of  Cathedral  life ;  two  contain  the  theory  of  Cathedral 
work.  The  life  is  framed  on  the  basis  of  systematic  devotion 

id  corporate  action;    the  work  is  regulated  by  the  require- 

lents  of  theological  study  and  religious  education. 

The  following  letters  to  Canon  Benson  on  matters 

308          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

canonical  make  mention  of  the  above-mentioned  paper, 
and  also  of  an  article  which  he  contributed  to  a  collection 
of  Cathedral  papers  edited  by  Dean  Howson.  The 
title  of  my  father's  paper  was  "  Cathedral  Foundations 
in  Relation  to  Religious  Thought."  Those  who  have 
studied  these  essays  and  followed  the  Canon's  work 
at  Peterborough  will  recognise  how  earnestly  he  en 
deavoured  to  put  his  theories  into  practice. 


TRINITY  COLLEGE,  2nd  May  1871. 

My  dear  Benson — I  had  some  talk  (for  a  second  time) 
with  Cubitt  when  I  was  at  our  last  Revision  meeting  on  the 
possibility  of  carrying  out  a  scheme  for  reviving  suspended 
canonries  in  some  one  diocese  for  an  experiment.  He  was 
quite  prepared  to  support  the  idea  liberally,  and  the  Bishop 
of  Peterborough  is  also  prepared  to  give  his  help  towards 
realising  it.  As  a  preliminary  step,  Cubitt  was  most  anxious 
to  get  some  letters  written  on  the  subject,  and  thought  that 
you  might  be  willing  to  put  parts  of  your  article  in  such  a 
form.  Do  so  if  you  can.  There  is  some  hope  of  a  private 
meeting  on  the  subject  towards  the  end  of  May.  Could  you 
be  present  ?  As  yet  all  is  uncertain,  but  I  really  think  that 
there  is  good  hope  for  the  scheme. — Ever  yours  affectionately, 


TRINITY  COLLEGE,  yd  May  1871. 

I  have  only  seen  your  first  letter.  But  from  that  specimen 
I  cannot  doubt  that  the  letters  reprinted  would  do  good 
service.  I  am  sure  you  may  trust  Cubitt's  judgment.  Thus 
I  say  without  hesitation,  Reprint ! 

I  gave  in  my  paper  in  Macmillan  my  reasons  for  not 
including  preaching  in  the  characteristic  work  of  Cathedrals. 
They  should,  I  think,  be  places  for  study,  training,  and  re 
freshment  for  the  clergy.  .  .  . 


Will  you  let  us  have  some  outlines  of  work  which  can  be 
done  with  such  resources  as  we  have.  My  thoughts  are 
turning  to  a  kind  of  clergy -house,  for  candidates  for  Holy 
Orders  and  for  retirement.  This,  with  some  organisation  for 
religious  inspection  and  church  finance,  would  represent  the 
whole  work  fairly.  But  do  tell  me  what  you  think. 

PETERBOROUGH,  \%thjuly  1871. 

My  dear  Benson — After  much  hesitation — chiefly  per 
suaded  by  Hort — I  have  promised  to  write  a  short  paper 
for  the  Dean  of  Chester.  Roughly,  I  proposed  to  him  to 
say  something  on  the  first  topic  suggested  in  the  preliminary 
memorandum,  calling  my  paper  "Cathedrals  and  Religious 
Thought."  Thought,  that  is,  in  relation  to  (i)  study  and 
teaching,  (2)  devotion,  and  (3)  mode  of  life.  Of  course, 
anything  which  I  say  will  be  very  fragmentary,  but  with  a 
view  to  our  scheme  here  it  seems  to  be  worth  while  to  say 
it,  and  you  may  perhaps  be  willing  to  enforce  and  supple 
ment  what  I  can  say,  or  to  fill  up  a  Cathedral  theory.  I  am 
rather  afraid  of  the  pressure  of  immediate  results,  and  shall 
aim  at  what  is  transcendental  in  many  people's  eyes. 

But  "the  Speaker's"1  made  me  bitterly  sad.  I  suppose  I 
am  a  communist  by  nature;  but  surely  dress  and  jewels 
cannot  be  tolerated  even  in  this  world  for  ever.  What  a 
"  Commentary  on  the  Bible,"  could  the  people  of  Whitechapel 
have  seen  it,  that  would  have  seemed ! 

PETERBOROUGH,  zqthjuly  1871. 

What  I  want  you  to  treat  of  above  all  things  is  the  relation 
of  the  Cathedral  to  the  Bishop.  To  this  you  have  given 
special  attention,  and  no  one  else  is  very  likely  to  dwell 
upon  this  subject.  Round  this  centre  other  questions  of  large 
organisation  would  group  themselves.  You  probably  mean  this 
by  Redintegration,  i.e.  Bishop  +  Chapter  +  Clergy  +  Diocese — 
the  social  life  once  more  complete. 

1  Some  entertainment  given  by  the  Speaker  in  connexion  with  the  Com 

310          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

PETERBOROUGH,  2nd  September  1871. 

You  must  not  despair,  or  even  admit  the  least  discourage 
ment.  It  would,  I  think,  have  been  wrong  to  admit  the  whole 
greater  Chapter  to  a  representative  assembly.  Certainly  it 
would  have  been  unwise  at  present.  The  Bishop,  however, 
made  a  great  mistake  in  not  consulting  (as  on  a  great  matter) 
with  his  larger  Chapter  on  the  general  question  of  the  Con 
ference  and  of  the  Synod.  The  larger  Chapter  is  really  a 
Synod,  and  should  be  called  together  as  such  by  the  Bishop. 
Certainly  we  are  here  living  in  hope  that  the  Bishop  will 
summon  the  greater  Chapter,  though  it  exists  only  by  courtesy. 
But  you  must  not  by  any  means  allow  yourself  to  think  that 
your  privileges  or  duties  have  been  lessened.  The  greater 
Chapter  elects  the  Bishop,  to  say  nothing  more.  And  as  for 
the  Conference,  I  was  perfectly  satisfied  that  the  Dean  and 
one  Canon  should  represent  the  Chapter  here.  .  .  . 

Do  let  me  hear  that  you  see  your  way  clear  again.  I  am 
beginning  to  be  in  despair  about  Nottingham,  but  still  hope 
to  make  a  beginning  to-morrow. 

In  the  matter  of  study  and  training  my  father 
attempted  something  by  drawing  to  Peterborough  year 
by  year  earnest  theological  students,  whose  work  he 
rejoiced  to  direct.  I  remember  a  fairly  constant  succes 
sion  of  these,  but  their  individuality  escapes  me.  One, 
at  any  rate,  was  Marsham  Argles,  who  surrendered  his 
life  in  the  cause  of  Christian  work  in  India.  Another 
was  Canon  Scott  Holland,  who  thus  describes  his 
experiences  * : — 

My  first  sight  of  him  \sc.  Canon  Westcott]  had  been  in 
Peterborough  Cathedral,  all  but  thirty  years  ago.  I  had  gone 
with  a  friend  to  read  with  him  for  Deacon's  orders.  He  was 
giving  lectures  on  St.  John  in  a  side  Chapel ;  and  all  through 
the  first  lecture  we  could  hardly  believe  our  eyes.  This  tiny 
form,  with  the  thin  small  voice,  delivering  itself,  with  passionate 

1  The  Commonwealth^  September  1901. 


intensity,  of  the  deepest  teaching  on  the  mystery  of  the  In 
carnation,  to  two  timid  ladies  of  the  Close,  under  the  haughty 
contempt  of  the  solitary  verger,  who  had  been  forced  to  lend 
the  authority  of  his  "poker"  to  those  undignified  and  new 
fangled  efforts — was  this  really  Dr.  Westcott?  We  had  to 
reassure  ourselves  of  the  fact,  as  we  emerged,  by  repeated 
asseverations  that  it  certainly  must  be. 

Then,  the  first  interview  revealed  where  the  secret  of  his 
power  lay.  We  had  never  before  seen  such  an  identification 
of  study  with  prayer.  He  read  and  worked  in  the  very  mind 
with  which  he  prayed  ;  and  his  prayer  was  of  singular  intensity. 
It  might  be  only  the  elements  of  textual  criticism  with  which 
he  was  dealing  ;  but,  still,  it  was  all  steeped  in  the  atmosphere 
of  awe,  and  devotion,  and  mystery,  and  consecration.  He 
taught  us  as  one  who  ministered  at  an  Altar ;  and  the  details 
of  the  Sacred  Text  were  to  him  as  the  Ritual  of  some  Sacra 
mental  Action.  His  touching  belief  in  our  powers  of  scholar 
ship  used  sometimes  to  shatter  our  self-control ;  and  I  well 
remember  the  shouts  of  laughter  which  we  just  succeeded  in 
mastering  until  we  found  ourselves  outside  in  the  moonlit 
Close,  when  he  confessed  his  disappointment  at  our  not  re 
calling  the  use  of  a  certain  verb  in  the  Clementine  Homilies 
— we  who,  at  that  moment,  had  but  the  dimmest  concep 
tion  what  the  Clementine  Homilies  might  be.  Sometimes  he 
would  crush  us  to  the  dust  by  his  humility,  as  when,  after 
we  had  gaily  turned  off,  at  a  moment's  notice,  our  interpreta 
tion  of  some  crucial  passage  in  St.  John,  he  would  confess, 
in  an  awe-struck  whisper,  that  he  had  himself  never  yet  dared 
to  put  down  on  paper  his  own  conclusion  of  the  matter. 

Another  important  function  of  Cathedral  Founda 
tions,  according  to  my  father's  expressed  opinion,  was 
,  the  quickening  of  the  intellectual  and  spiritual  life  of  the 
diocese.  His  own  efforts  to  do  his  part  in  this  great 
service  are  continuously  apparent  in  his  Peterborough 
work.  He  promoted  devotional  gatherings  of  clergy 
and  church  workers  in  the  Cathedral,  and  served  the 
same  end  by  means  of  Church  Congress  papers  on 


312          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

subjects  of  study  and  devotion.  The  following  letter 
of  thanks  from  the  clergy  of  Peterborough  shows  how 
his  labours  to  this  end  were  appreciated  : — 

PETERBOROUGH,  $ist  August  1878. 

Dear  Canon  Westcott — We  are  most  desirous  that  you 
should  not  terminate  your  present  residence  without  our 
expressing  how  fruitful  for  good  we  feel  that  residence  has 
been  to  this  city  and  neighbourhood.  We  have  to  thank  you 
specially  for  the  most  valuable  gathering  of  the  clergy  for  a 
Day  of  Devotion,  and  for  the  Special  Services  for  those  engaged 
under  us  in  Church  work  in  our  several  parishes.  These 
gatherings  have  indeed  fulfilled  your  expressed  wish  in  being 
a  "spring  of  sympathy  and  strength."  By  such  means  as 
these  our  grand  inheritance  of  the  old  Minster  becomes  a 
living  thing,  loved  by  those  who  gather  within  its  walls. 
Looking  forward  to  a  renewal  of  our  happy  association  with 
you,  and  with  hearty  and  sincere  thanks,  we  remain,  yours 
most  truly, 

HENRY  S.  SYERS,  Vicar  of  St.  John  Baptist. 

W.  R.  THOMAS,   Vicar  of  St.  Mary's. 

CHARLES  R.  BALL,  Vicar  of  St.  Paul's. 

D.  M.  MELVILLE,  Curate. 

REGINALD  TOMPSON,  Rector  of  Woodstone. 

His  Church  Congress  papers  include  those  delivered 
at  Nottingham  in  1871,  at  Leeds  in  1872,  at  Brighton 
in  1874,  and  at  Leicester  in  1882.  The  last  of  these,  on 
The  Communion  of  Saints,  seems  peculiarly  associated 
with  Peterborough,  and  is  published  in  a  volume  of 
Peterborough  Sermons.  The  subject,  too,  is  one  so 
very  dear  to  himself.  He  had  an  extraordinary  power 
of  realising  this  Communion.  It  was  his  delight  to  be 
alone  at  night  in  the  great  Cathedral,  for  there  he 
could  meditate  and  pray  in  full  sympathy  with  all  that 
was  good  and  great  in  the  past.  I  have  been  with 


him  there  on  a  moonlight  evening  when  the  vast 
building  was  haunted  with  strange  lights  and  shades, 
and  the  ticking  of  the  great  clock  sounded  like  some 
giant's  footsteps  in  the  deep  silence.  Then  he  had 
always  abundant  company.  Once  a  daughter  in  later 
years  met  him  returning  from  one  of  his  customary 
meditations  in  the  solitary  darkness  of  the  chapel  at 
Auckland  Castle,  and  she  said  to  him,  "  I  expect  you 
do  not  feel  alone  ?"  "  Oh  no,"  he  said,  "  it  is  full  "  ;  and 
as  he  spoke  his  face  shone  with  one  of  his  beautiful 

One  of  the  immediate  fruits  of  the  Leicester  Address 
was  the  institution  of  an  annual  Commemoration  of 
Benefactors  in  the  Minster. 

Great  services  in  the  Cathedral  Nave,  where 
thousands  could  be  gathered,  were  always  his  delight. 
He  secured  the  establishment  of  Nave  services  on  the 
Sunday  evenings  in  Advent  and  Lent,  and  laboured 
successfully  to  form  a  large  Voluntary  Choir  to  help  in 
the  musical  portion  of  these  services.  During  his 
residence  in  the  summer  various  full  Nave  services  were 
held  :  at  one  time  for  volunteers,  at  another  for  railway 
men,  at  another  for  Oddfellows,  at  another  for  Sunday 
School  teachers.  He  was  always  ready  to  preach  to 
such  gatherings. 

The  following  letter  to  his  wife  indicates  the  success 
of  some  week-day  evening  services  during  Advent  : — 

PETERBOROUGH,  i6th  December  1880. 

Yesterday  evening  the  rendering  of  the  selections  from  the 
Last  Judgment  was  admirable ;  better  than  anything  I  have 
heard  here  before.  There  was  a  large  congregation,  and  the 
manner  of  the  choir  was  most  reverent,  and  Dr.  Keeton's  accom 
paniment  perfect.  I  saw  Mr.  Phillips  and  Dr.  Keeton  after, 

314          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

and  I  must  see  the  choir  to-day.  Mr.  P.  says  that  they  have 
taken  most  kindly  to  the  extra  work,  and  shown  the  greatest 
interest  in  it.  We  shall  really  have  a  St.  Peter's  Festival  after 
all.  Last  Sunday  there  was  a  grand  nave  service  in  the 
morning  for  the  Agricultural  Benevolent  Society.  Three  or 
four  corporations  appeared  in  state,  and  over  ;£ioo  was 
collected.  The  Bishop  preached  a  very  fine  sermon.  There 
were  special  trains.  Altogether  the  Cathedral  is  looking  up. 

Some  part  of  his  regular  Sunday  morning  sermons 
during  each  residence  was  generally  a  connected 
course.  In  1874,  f°r  example,  he  preached  a  course 
of  seven  sermons  on  "  Some  Elementary  Truths  of  the 
Christian  Faith."  The  substance  of  his  sermons 
during  the  residence  of  1881  was  published  in  the 
volume  entitled  The  Revelation  of  the  Risen  Lord.  In 
like  manner  The  Historic  Faith  contains  the  sermons 
preached  in  1880. 

Of  my  father's  work,  as  represented  by  The  Para 
graph  Psalter,  Precentor  Phillips  will  speak.  But  I 
note  that  on  the  day  on  which  he  sent  the  first  copy 
of  this  Psalter  to  the  press  he  had  been  reading  Daniel 
Deronda.  This  leads  me  to  say  a  word  about  his 
novel  reading.  Once  a  year,  that  is  to  say  in  his 
holiday  month,  September,  he  was  wont  to  indulge 
himself  with  a  novel.  His  library  of  fiction  was  very 
limited.  I  believe  that  I  could  catalogue  it  from 
memory.  Many  a  time  have  I  searched  it  for  a  book 
to  read,  and  these  are  all  I  can  remember  having  seen  : 
The  Scarlet  Letter,  Jane  Eyre,  Villette,  Romola,  and  John 
Inglesant.  These  books  do  not  represent  the  sum  of 
his  novel  reading,  but  they  are  an  indication  of  what 
books  he  considered,  after  careful  reading,  to  be 
worthy  of  a  place  in  his  library.  He  ventured  on 
some  criticisms  of  John  Inglesant,  which  had  been 


brought  to  his  notice  on  its  first  appearance  from  a 
Birmingham  press.  He  afterwards  had  some  corre 
spondence  and  conversation  with  the  author.  My 
father  considered  Romola  to  be  the  best  novel  of  our 
time.  In  this  opinion  Mr.  Shorthouse,  I  gather,  did 
not  acquiesce  ;  for  the  author  of  John  Inglesant  says, 
"  It  would  be  presumptuous  in  me  to  speak  of  the 
talent  and  research  displayed  in  Romola^  but  .  .  ." 

In  1875  my  father  was  appointed  an  Hon.  Chaplain 
to  the  Queen,  and  succeeded  to  a  Chaplaincy- in  - 
Ordinary  in  1879.  One  of  the  sermons  which  he 
preached  before  Her  Majesty  at  Windsor  contained  a 
touching  reference  to  the  recent  death  of  the  Prince 
Imperial  in  South  Africa,  and  my  father  was  requested 
to  send  the  sermon  to  the  Queen  in  order  that  Her 
Majesty  might  read  it  again.  With  that  enthusiastic 
loyalty  which  was  characteristic  of  him,  he  copied  out 
the  whole  discourse  in  his  best  writing,  and  forwarded 
it  for  perusal.  As  touching  my  father's  devotion  to 
the  Throne,  he  used  to  tell  how  in  early  days,  at  a 
time  when  the  Prince  Consort  was  not  very  popular,  he 
had  met  him  out  driving  and  given  him  a  hearty  cheer, 
and  then  taken  a  short  cut  across  the  Park  in  order  to 
give  the  Prince  a  second  loyal  reception. 

In  1877  mv  father  preached  one  of  a  series  of 
King's  College  Lectures,  his  subject  being  Benjamin 
Whichcote,  the  "  father  of  the  Cambridge  Platonists."  1 

In  1 88 1  he  was  appointed  by  Mr.  Gladstone  a 
member  of  the  Ecclesiastical  Courts  Commission.  In 
the  labours  of  this  Royal  Commission  (1881-1883) 
he  was  very  zealous,  and  took  "  a  leading  part  in  the 
work  of  research."  Although  no  legislation  followed 

1  Published   with    the  others    of    the  series    in    Masters  in   English 


316          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

on  the  Report  of  the  Commission,  it  did  valuable 
service  to  the  Church  of  England  in  that  it  asserted 
its  continuity  and  "  went  behind  the  Reformation." 
In  speaking  of  Archbishop  Benson's  work  on  this 
Commission,  my  father  says:  —  "It  was  my  happiness 
to  sit  by  Benson's  side,  and  to  watch  as  he  did  with 
unflagging  interest  the  gradual  determination  of  the 
relations  in  which  a  national  Church  must  stand  to  the 
nation,  itself  also  a  divine  society,  and  to  mark,  now  in 
one  form,  now  in  another,  the  essential  continuity  of  our 
own  ecclesiastical  life  under  changing  circumstances  from 
age  to  age.  The  ruling  ideas  of  the  Lincoln  Judgment 
were  really  defined  by  these  inquiries."  ] 

About  this  time  some  kind  friend  presented  my 
father  with  a  cat.  But  it  seems  that  his  gratitude  for 
this  treasure  of  the  Peterborough  home  went  astray, 
for  a  friend  writes  to  him  :  — 

I  sent  no  cat  ;  am  a/cara^e/A^as.  If  you  have  thanked  all 
your  friends  for  the  cat  (in  order  to  be  sure),  what  would  you 
do  should  each  send  you  a  cat  to  cover  his  weak  position  ? 
But  I  will  suffer  from  your  gratitude  and  spare  you. 

It  may  seem  frivolous  to  introduce  this  cat,  but  it 
was  no  ordinary  puss,  for  it  won  the  esteem  and 
affection  of  Bishop  Lightfoot.  The  good  Bishop, 
during  a  brief  stay  at  Peterborough,  lost  no  opportunity 
of  fondling  that  cat.  Moreover,  "  Miss  Lightfoot,"  as 
we  always  called  her,  or  her  daughter,  is,  I  believe,  the 
heroine  of  the  following  letter  :  — 

Really  my  table  is  bewitched.  This  morning  I  heard  a 
faint  "  mew  "  again  from  its  inmost  centre.  In  spite  of  the 
sermon,  I  took  off  the  top,  and  hunted  in  the  papers,  but 
could  see  or  hear  nothing.  After  a  time  the  cat  came  into 

1  Life  of  Archbishop  Benson^  ii.  192. 


the  room  and  disappeared.  Then  it  was  discovered  that 
there  was  a  space  between  the  ends  of  the  drawers  in  which  cat 
and  kitten  were.  Evidently  the  old  cat  had  revealed  the 
secret.  Now,  don't  cats  talk  ? 

The  mention  of  this  cat  brings  to  mind  my  father's 
affection  for  a  certain  dog.  He  was  not  fond  of  dogs 
in  general ;  but  this  particular  dog  had  belonged  to 
one  of  his  sons,  and  when  that  son  left  England  my 
father  insisted  on  adopting  the  animal,  though  he  had 
grave  doubts  as  to  his  fitness  for  so  responsible  a 
charge.  He  honestly  feared  that  he  might  through  over 
indulgence  fail  to  bring  out  the  best  features  of  the  dog's 
character.  In  one  of  his  letters  my  father  says  that 
nature  had  not  endowed  him  with  the  gift  of  tears  ; 
but  as  he  stood  on  the  quay-side  seeing  that  son  off  to 
Canada,  the  tears  were  pouring  down  his  cheeks.  That 
was  the  only  occasion  on  which  I  ever  saw  him  weep. 
The  little  fox-terrier  was  called  "  Mep  "  (his  full  name 
being  Mephistopheles),  and  he  survived  long,  being  for 
some  years  my  father's  companion  at  Auckland  Castle. 
They  used  to  walk  together  on  the  terrrace,  and  the 
Bishop  always  had  in  his  pocket  some  fragments  of 
biscuit  wherewith  to  regale  his  friend.  Mep  justified 
my  father's  fears  by  developing  a  most  uncertain 
temper,  which  was  the  cause  of  much  anxiety  to  the 
Bishop,  who  was  more  than  once  warned  in  the  matter 
of  keeping  "a  ferocious  dog."  The  Bishop  in  after 
years  was  wont  to  declare  that  these  words  should 
form  part  of  his  epitaph  :  "  He  cleaned  the  Gaunless 
and  the  Coundon  Beck,1  but  was  foolishly  indulgent  to 
his  dog." 

In    January    1883    Canon    Westcott    delivered    at 

1  Two  streams  that  flow  through  Auckland  Park. 

3i8          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

Gloucester  a  lecture  on  "  Monastic  Life."  This  I  take 
to  be  the  last  item  of  his  Peterborough  work.  It  was  at 
Peterborough  that  he  had  been  continually  studying 
this  subject,  and  every  fragment  of  the  old  monastic 
buildings  there  was  familiar  to  him  in  all  its  details. 
It  was  a  treat  to  any  one  to  be  conducted  round  the 
Cathedral  and  the  Close  by  him.  He  would  gladly  do 
such  service  for  parties  of  interested  visitors.  Amongst 
those  whom  he  so  served  were  members  of  the  Birming 
ham  Archaeological  Society  and  of  the  British  Medical 
Association  ;  but  he  was  quite  as  ready  to  help  the 
humblest,  .and,  if  there  was  nothing  else  that  they 
could  appreciate,  would  take  them  to  the  top  of  the 
Cathedral  Tower  to  admire  the  view. 
His  Gloucester  paper  opens  thus  : — 

Our  Cathedral  buildings  at  Peterborough  are  far  from  rich 
in  works  of  sculpture,  but  among  the  works  which  we  have 
there  are  two  which  have  always  seemed  to  me  to  be  of  the 
deepest  interest.  The  one  is  a  statue  of  a  Benedictine  monk, 
which  occupies  a  niche  in  the  gateway  built  by  Godfrey  of 
Croyland  about  1308  ;  the  other  is  the  effigy  of  an  unknown 
abbot  of  considerably  earlier  date,  carved  upon  the  slab 
which  once  covered  his  grave,  and  which  now  lies  in  the 
south  aisle  of  the  choir.  They  are  widely  different  in 
character  and  significance.  The  statue  of  the  monk,  which 
Flaxman  took  as  an  illustration  of  his  lectures  on  sculpture, 
is  one  of  the  noblest  of  mediaeval  figures.  The  effigy  of  the 
abbot  has  no  artistic  merit  whatever.  But  both  alike  are 
studies  from  life  ;  and  together  they  seem  to  me  to  bring 
very  vividly  before  us  the  vital  power  of  early  monasticism  in 

Mention  has  already  been  made  of  some  of  my 
father's  literary  work  at  Peterborough  in  connexion 
with  the  published  volumes  containing  sermons  preached 
in  the  Cathedral.  But  his  great  work  on  the  Gospel 

:^<  -i»*«-i;'|ftuijfiSB; 

^m-iU.  vl  :':.!^^Yv^£ 


From  a  Sketch  by  Canon  Westcott  (p.  318). 


of  St.  John  was  undertaken  when  he  was  as  yet  only 
a  Peterborough  Canon,  and  his  earliest  lectures  on  it 
were  delivered  in  the  little  Chapel  of  St.  John  in  the 

In  May  1869  he  received  two  letters  from  the 
Dean  of  St.  Paul's  (Dr.  Mansel),  stating  that  the 
Archbishop  of  York  was  anxious  that  he  should  under 
take  the  Gospel  of  St.  John  for  the  Speakers  Commentary. 
His  acceptance  of  this  proposal  practically  involved 
the  surrender  of  his  long-cherished  hope  of  bringing  out 
a  commentary  on  the  Greek  text  of  the  Fourth  Gospel, 
as  part  of  the  contemplated  "  tripartite  Commentary." 
In  his  diary  under  date  22nd  May  he  notes:  "St. 
John  Commentary  undertaken  eV  ^^HO-TO)."  In  May 
of  the  following  year  he  took  his  degree  of  Doctor  of 
Divinity  at  Cambridge. 

Besides  his  continuous  work  at  the  text  of  the 
Greek  Testament,  he  was  also  occupied  in  Ecclesiastical 

In  his  Harrow  days  my  father  had  pointed  out  to 
Mr.  Rivington  the  great  need  that  there  was  for  a 
Dictionary  of  Christian  Antiquities  ;  so  it  was  natural, 
when  this  project  began  to  take  shape  under  Dr. 
William  Smith's  general  editorship,  that  he  should 
take  a  leading  part  in  its  inception.  In  conjunction 
with  Professor  Lightfoot  he  undertook  the  editorship  of 
the  sections  devoted  to  Literature  and  Biography,  to 
Sects  and  Heresies,  and  to  the  History  of  Doctrine. 
This  undertaking,  however,  was  not  of  a  binding 
character,  and  in  1873  tne  Cambridge  professors  were 
^compelled  to  seek  release  from  their  editorial  labours. 
My  father's  promised  contributions,  however,  were 
completed,  the  most  important  being  his  articles  on 
the  Alexandrian  divines,  including  Clement,  Demetrius, 

320          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

Dionysius,  and,  greatest  of  all,  Origen.  For  many 
years  the  works  of  Origen  were  close  to  his  hand,  and 
he  continually  turned  to  them  at  every  opportunity. 
In  January  1877  he  lectured  on  Origen  at  Edinburgh. 
He  thus  describes  his  experiences  at  Edinburgh  in 
letters  to  his  wife : — 

EDINBURGH,  i6th  January  1877. 

...  I  have  been  to  see  the  place  of  lecture,  a  very 
formidable  kind  of  theatre,  which  is  certainly  difficult  to  speak 
in.  However,  I  intend  to  purchase  some  jujubes  and  trust  to 
fate.  The  Secretary  impresses  upon  me  the  necessity  of  not 
exceeding  my  hour ;  and  I  have  marked  passages  to  be  left 
out  which  will,  I  hope,  give  me  margin.  .  .  . 

EDINBURGH,  I'jth January  1877. 

My  first  lecture  is  over,  my  dearest  Mary,  and  I  at  least 
obeyed  (as  I  believe)  my  two  conditions :  I  was  heard,  and  I 
finished  just  at  the  hour.  I  held  my  watch  in  my  hand  and 
was  resolute  in  keeping  to  time.  There  was  a  very  good 
attendance.  People  seemed  to  be  surprised  that  the  subject 
proved  attractive.  The  hearers,  too,  were  quiet  and  attentive ; 
but  they  had  nothing  specially  to  try  them.  One  of  the  first 
persons  who  came  into  the  Committee  room  was  Mr. 
Robertson  of  Market  Deeping.  I  have  just  been  to  lunch 
with  him.  At  least  I  had  one  kindly-disposed  hearer,  and  Dr. 
Donaldson  was  another.  There  was  a  very  large  gathering  at 
Mrs.  Murray's  yesterday.  Lady  Dundas  came  in  among 
others,  and  Gordon  Duff's  sister,  as  well  as  Graham  Murray 
and  his  wife,  so  that  I  was  quite  among  Harrow  friends.  .  .  . 

His  Dictionary  article  on  Origen  was  not  completed 
until  1886.  Preaching  in  Trinity  College  Chapel,1  the 
Master,  making  affectionate  mention  of  my  father  as 
"  this  good  man,  this  great  scholar,  this  dear  friend, 

1  On  1 3th  October  1901. 


this  abiding  glory  of  our  College,"  pronounced  Origen 
to  have  been  "  a  man  after  his  own  heart,"  and  said,  "  I 
have  been  reading  again  lately  his  fine  essay  on  the 
great  '  Origen  and  the  Beginnings  of  Christian  Philo 
sophy.'1  Not  a  word  in  it,  nor  yet  a  silence,  that 
breathes  suspicion  against  that  gracious  name.  Nothing 
to  decry,  to  cramp,  to  fetter  thought.  Throughout, 
spoken  or  unspoken,  we  hear  the  lofty  prayer  for  light 
— light  from  the  Father  of  lights,  light  through  the 
Eternal  Spirit,  who  *  in  all  ages,  entering  into  holy  souls, 
maketh  them  friends  of  God  and  prophets/  " 

In  a  selection  of  my  father's  letters  to  his  children 
attached  to  this  chapter  will  be  found  mention  of  his 
tricycle  and  of  the  Precincts  cricket  eleven,  and  with 
out  some  word  about  his  interest  in  his  boys'  holiday 
recreations  this  chronicle  of  his  Peterborough  life 
would  be  indeed  imperfect. 

The  tricycle  merits  prior  consideration.  It  had 
long  been  known  in  the  family  circle  that  he  was 
greatly  desirous  of  possessing  a  tricycle,  but  the  idea  of 
buying  one  for  himself  would  not  enter  into  his  mind,  as 
he  would  surely  have  viewed  such  a  proceeding  as  selfish 
extravagance.  The  family,  therefore,  subscribed  and 
purchased  for  him  a  respectable  second-hand  machine. 
With  this  worthy  engine  he  was  immensely  pleased,  and 
soon  worked  himself  up  into  the  belief  that  his  machine 
was  at  all  points  the  most  admirable  tricycle  on  the  road. 
Many  a  time  on  a  summer  evening,  after  the  Cathedral 
afternoon  service,  he  would  go  out  on  his  tricycle  escorted 
by  sons  on  bicycles,  to  visit  and  sketch  neighbouring 
.churches.  A  favourite  excursion  was  to  Norman  Cross, 
where  on  occasion  he  would  be  tempted  to  take  tea. 

The  Precincts  cricket  eleven  was,  as  my  father  had 

1  Now  contained  in  his  Religious  Thought  in  the  West. 
VOL.  I  Y 

322          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

expected,  a  comparatively  good  team  at  one  time.  It 
was  composed  of  six  of  ourselves ;  three  of  Dean 
Perowne's  sons  ;  and  two  of  Precentor  Phillips's  sons, 
including  Mr.  Stephen  Phillips,  renowned  now  as  poet 
and  dramatist.  My  brother  Foss  was  in  the  Cheltenham 
eleven  and  Stephen  Phillips  was  also  a  cricketer,  so  that 
we  were  able  to  render  a  fairly  good  account  of  ourselves 
in  our  games  with  the  village  clubs  of  the  neighbourhood. 
My  father  used  from  time  to  time  to  encourage  us  with 
his  criticisms.  He  himself  occasionally  joined  us  in  a 
game  of  "  stumps,"  and  obtained  some  reputation  as  a 
cunning  bowler.  Sometimes  he  would  come  with  us 
for  a  row  on  the  river  Nene,  but  always  as  a  passenger, 
his  injured  hand  making  it  impossible  for  him  to  wield 
an  oar  with  any  degree  of  comfort.  The  most  astonish 
ing,  however,  of  all  my  father's  athletic  feats  were  those 
which  he  performed  at  Hunstanton.  There,  in  the 
late  summer,  the  sober  tradespeople  of  Peterborough 
and  Cambridge  viewed  with  delighted  astonishment  the 
learned  professor  and  canon,  with  a  great  jumping-pole 
in  his  hand,  leaping  from  rock  to  rock  with  amazing 
audacity  and  skill. 

My  father's  connexion  with  Peterborough  was  most 
abruptly  severed.  He  resigned  his  canonry,  at  the 
request  of  Bishop  Magee,  on  Qth  May  1883.  Upon 
this  most  unhappy  occurrence,  which  was  to  my  father 
himself  a  great  surprise  and  shock,  it  would  be  futile  to 
enlarge.  The  Bishop's  contention  was  that  my  father 
neglected  his  duties  as  Examining  Chaplain,  and  should, 
if  he  resigned  that  office,  resign  his  canonry  also.  My 
father  replied  as  follows  : — 

CAMBRIDGE,  gth  May  1883. 

My  dear  Lord — I  very  much  regret  that  my  engagements 
yesterday  and  the  day  before  made  it  impossible  for  me  to 



answer  your  letter.  Let  me  at  once  thank  you  heartily  for 
the  kindness  with  which  you  speak  of  some  of  my  past  work. 
I  can  at  least  so  far  accept  your  words  as  to  feel  that  they 
represent  what  I  have  tried  to  do  during  the  long  period  for 
which  I  have  held  the  offices  which  you  entrusted  to  me.  I 
have  given  ungrudgingly  from  first  to  last,  without  the  least 
variation,  the  best  I  have  had  to  give.  It  is  true  that  during 
fourteen  years  I  have  been  absent  from  two  examinations 
when  the  Trinity  Ember  week  fell,  as  this  year,  in  full  term 
time,  and  in  addition  from  two,  it  may  be  three,  days  of 
ordination  for  urgent  personal  reasons  which  you  kindly 
approved ;  on  the  other  hand,  I  have,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
and  gladly,  sacrificed  every  Christmas  vacation,  a  time  which 
is  at  my  own  disposal,  so  as  to  leave  myself  only  one  month 
in  the  year  for  rest  and  travel. 

Whatever  may  have  been  the  effect  to  myself,  I  believe, 
and  others  have  commonly  expressed  the  same  belief,  that  it 
has  been,  on  the  whole,  an  advantage  to  the  diocese  and  to 
the  Cathedral,  that  I  have  held  my  professorship ;  nor  do  I 
think,  if  my  strength  had  continued  to  bear  the  strain,  the 
advantage,  whatever  it  may  be,  would  have  been  less  in  the 
future.  But  your  Lordship  can  judge  on  this  point  far  better 
than  I  can,  and  I  can  well  believe  that  you  will  be  able  to 
appoint  some  one  to  succeed  me  who  may  serve  the  Diocese 
and  the  Cathedral  more  continuously,  though  I  am  not 
conscious  that  there  has  been  any  change  either  in  the 
measure  or  in  the  zeal  of  my  own  services.  I  must  add  that 
I  have  always  considered  the  Chaplaincy  and  the  Canonry  as 
two  perfectly  distinct  offices  with  distinct  duties.  I  accepted  the 
Chaplaincy  without  any  idea  that  I  should  receive  the  offer  of 
a  Canonry,  and  I  have  always  supposed  that  I  might  continue 
to  hold  the  Canonry,  even  if  I  were  relieved  of  part  of  the  work 
of  the  Chaplaincy.  Indeed,  your  Lordship  some  time  since 
expressed  (as  I  understood)  the  same  opinion.  You  kindly 
proposed,  when  I  spoke  of  the  pressure  of  work,  to  appoint 
some  younger  man  who  might  take  some  part  of  the 
examination.  "I  have  been  sometimes  inclined  to  think 
that  I  ought  to  resign  my  Canonry  "  (these  were,  I  think,  the 
words  that  I  used),  because  you  have  not,  as  you  once 

324          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

proposed,  taken  any  steps  to  help  me  in  the  difficulties  which 
come  (for  example)  from  an  early  Easter,  not  because  I  was 
conscious  of  failing  in  my  duty,  but  because  the  change  in 
your  purpose  might,  I  thought,  perhaps  show  that  it  was  your 
wish  that  I  should  resign  my  office.  I  am,  therefore,  very 
glad  that  I  expressed  my  misgivings,  because  I  learn  from 
your  letter,  if  I  do  not  misinterpret  it,  that  they  were  better 
founded  than  I  had  supposed. 

While,  therefore,  I  am,  if  I  may  be  allowed  to  say  so, 
unable  to  affect  to  be  in  accord  with  your  Lordship  in  this 
matter,  or  to  admit  the  justice  of  the  reasons  which  you 
assign  for  your  wish,  I  readily  accede  to  the  wish  itself.  I 
beg  leave  to  resign  my  Chaplaincy,  and  to  resign  also  my 
Canonry,  which  I  regard  as  a  perfectly  distinct  and  separate 
office.  Under  the  circumstances,  it  is  desirable  that  the 
resignation  should  take  effect  with  as  little  delay  as  possible.  I 
had  made  arrangements  for  coming  into  residence  on  June  ist. 
This,  of  course,  I  cannot  do  now,  but  my  successor  will  have 
no  difficulty  in  providing  for  the  services.  My  own  appoint 
ment  fell  during  the  time  of  residence  of  my  predecessor. 
I  trust  that  I  have  not  expressed  myself  with  unbecoming 
plainness.  Your  Lordship,  while  speaking  with  undiminished 
kindness,  has  entirely,  but  not  unnaturally,  mistaken  the 
meaning  of  what  I  said  before,  and  I  am  most  anxious  that 
it  should  not  be  said  or  thought  hereafter  that  I  resigned  my 
Chaplaincy  or  my  Canonry  because  I  felt  that  I  had  not 
fulfilled,  or  that  I  should  not  fulfil,  the  duties  attached  to  the 
offices.  However  painful  it  may  be  to  make  such  a  state 
ment,  it  is  due  to  myself  to  say  that  I  think  that  I  have  done 
so,  and  that  I  was  prepared  to  do  so  in  the  future  to  the 
best  of  my  power.  Your  Lordship  has  made  me  understand 
that  you  judge  very  differently,  and  for  this  reason,  in 
obedience  to  your  wish,  I  have  resigned  the  charges  which 
you  committed  to  me. 

Let  me,  in  conclusion,  express  an  earnest  hope  that,  in 
whatever  I  have  been  to  blame  during  these  fourteen  years,  in 
whatever  I  have  erred  through  ignorance  or  through  weakness, 
I  may  be  forgiven. — Believe  me  to  be,  my  dear  Lord,  yours 
most  faithfully,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 


The  sudden  resignation  in  the  month  immediately 
preceding  that  in  which  the  Canon  would  have  come  into 
residence  caused  no  small  stir  in  Peterborough.  My 
father  received  many  letters  from  bewildered  persons. 

The  perplexity  and  consternation  which  reigned  in 
the  Cathedral  body  is  very  evident  from  the  letters 
received  from  all  its  members  at  the  time.  The  resigna 
tion  was  in  truth  a  complete  surprise,  and  its  cause  a 
mystery.  But,  curiously  enough,  the  notices  which 
appeared  in  the  press  were  quite  clear  as  to  the  reasons. 
The  following  paragraph  from  a  widely  circulated 
society  weekly  reflects  the  accepted  view : — 

Dr.  Westcott's  resignation  of  his  canonry  at  Peterborough 
has  taken  the  diocese  by  surprise,  and  is  generally  regretted  in 
the  city ;  but,  although  only  recently  disclosed  to  the  public, 
it  is  understood  that  several  months  ago  he  intimated  his 
intention  to  the  Bishop,  and  we  should  have  heard  earlier  of 
the  step  but  for  Dr.  Magee's  lengthened  absence  abroad.  Dr. 
Westcott  has  recently  found  that  his  duties  as  Regius  Professor 
of  Divinity  at  Cambridge  are  quite  sufficiently  engrossing,  and 
that  the  necessity  for  taking  his  three  months  of  "  close " 
residence  at  Peterborough  is  an  inconvenient  tax  upon  his 
time.  The  Bishop  has  appointed  the  Very  Rev.  Dean 
MacDonnell,  who  has  for  many  years  officiated  as  one  of  his 
chaplains,  to  the  vacant  canonry,  and  he  was  formally  installed 
by  the  Dean  last  Monday.  For  the  first  time  for  many  years 
the  ancient  custom  was  revived  of  ringing  the  bells  of  the 
parish  church  in  honour  of  the  installation  of  a  prebend  of 
the  Cathedral. 

The  incorrectness  of  this  suggestion  was  demon 
strated  by  the  twin  facts  that  my  father  accepted  an 
Examining  Chaplaincy  to  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury 
within  a  week  of  his  resignation  of  the  like  service  to 
the  Bishop  of  Peterborough,1  and  accepted  a  Westminster 

1  He  would  not  accept  this  new  appointment  until  Bishop  Magee  had 
been  consulted. 

326          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

Canonry  within  a  few  months  of  his  removal  from  the 
Peterborough  stall. 

It  is  a  great  happiness  to  be  able  to  add  that  the 
former  friendship  between  my  father  and  Bishop  Magee 
was  very  soon  renewed.  The  Bishop,  who  was  so 
dangerously  ill  in  the  following  July  that  it  was  feared 
that  he  would  not  live,  sent  (through  his  old  friend 
Dean  MacDonnell)  a  touching  message  to  my  father 
from  his  sick  -  bed.  In  his  reply  to  this  letter  my 
father  says  : — 

I  need  not  say  that  my  thoughts  have  been  with  you  day 
by  day.  We  know  not  what  to  ask,  but  we  can  ask  that  the 
will  of  God,  which  is  our  truest  will,  may  be  welcomed  and 
fulfilled  by  and  in  us.  You  will  believe  that  from  the  moment 
when  I  heard  of  the  Bishop's  illness  I  put  wholly  out  of  mind 
the  painful  and  wholly  unintelligible  circumstances  of  my 
removal  from  Peterborough.  I  have  thought  only  of  number 
less  acts  of  kindness  and  confidence,  which  I  shall  always 
gratefully  remember.  All  that  might  have  seemed  different 
is  now  for  ever  forgotten,  and  I  trust  that  I  may  be  allowed 
to  show  the  Bishop  how  gladly  I  will  continue  to  serve  him  in 
work  which  he  will  do  yet,  as  we  pray,  for  the  Church  of 
Christ,  according  to  my  power.  .  .  . 

When,  years  after  this,  Bishop  Magee  was  translated 
to  the  See  of  York,  none  welcomed  him  more  warmly 
to  the  northern  province  than  did  my  father,  who  was 
at  the  time  Bishop  of  Durham. 

The  sermons  which  my  father  had  proposed  to 
preach  during  his  residence  at  Peterborough  in  the 
summer  of  1883  were  published  under  the  title  of  The 
Revelation  of  the  Father.  Copies  of  the  book  were  sent 
by  him  to  those  friends  who  might  have  been  looking  for 
ward,  as  so  many  did,  to  his  message  from  the  Cathedral 
pulpit.  In  the  preface  to  the  volume  he  says : — 


It  was  my  intention  to  deliver  the  substance  of  these 
lectures  during  my  summer  residence  at  Peterborough  in  the 
present  year.  Very  shortly  before  the  time  of  residence  came 
my  connexion  with  the  Cathedral  was  most  unexpectedly 
broken,  and  my  purpose  was  consequently  unfulfilled.  I 
have  reason,  however,  to  think  that  some  to  whom  I  had  been 
allowed  to  minister  for  fourteen  summers  would  have  followed 
with  interest  the  examination  of  a  subject  which  we  had 
already  approached  eleven  years  ago,  and  it  has  been  a 
pleasure  to  me  to  continue  so  far  as  I  could  the  old  relation 
by  revising  week  after  week  what  I  had  hoped  to  address  to 
them.  Such  friends  will,  I  trust,  receive  the  result  as  a 
memorial  of  a  connexion  on  which  I  shall  always  look  back 
with  affectionate  gratitude. 

On  Easter  Eve  of  the  following  year  my  father 
received  as  a  gift  from  some  of  his  Peterborough  friends 
a  handsome  bookcase  made  from  some  of  the  old  oak 
taken  from  the  central  tower  of  the  Cathedral.  Writing 
to  Mr.  W.  Clarabut  to  acknowledge  this  gift,  he  says  :— 

The  beautiful  gift  which  your  letter  announced  reached  me 
on  Easter  Eve.  No  gift  could  have  been  more  welcome  or 
more  precious.  The  design,  the  material,  the  workmanship 
all  add  to  its  value  and  interest,  and  it  will  be,  I  hope,  in  all 
years  to  come  a  treasure  to  those  who  shall  follow  me. 
Thoughts  of  Easter  were  those  on  which  I  delighted  during 
my  residence  at  Peterborough  to  dwell  most  constantly. 
They  bring  before  us  more  than  any  other  thoughts  the  trans 
forming  power  of  our  faith.  That  my  friends  there  should 
have  connected  their  memorial  with  this  season  is  a  fresh 
proof  of  their  sympathy. 

I  do  not  know  whom  I  have  to  thank  personally,  but  you 
will,  I  am  sure,  convey  to  my  friends  the  expression  of  my 
deep  sense  of  their  kindness.  I  have  given  in  the  little 
volume  of  lectures  which  I  had  the  pleasure  of  sending  to 
those  who  would,  I  thought,  be  interested  in  them  what  is, 
as  it  were,  a  parting  message.  My  main  desire  from  first  to 
last  was  to  use  the  office  which  I  held  in  the  Cathedral  as  an 

328          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

opportunity  for  learning  and  showing,  as  I  could,  something 
more  of  the  wealth  of  Holy  Scripture.  So  far  as  I  was 
enabled  to  attain  this  end,  and  to  encourage  others  to  study 
on  the  same  lines,  the  work  will  have  been  amply  rewarded, 
and  it  will  continue  to  be  fruitful. 

The  loss  of  work  at  Peterborough  was  quickly  followed,  as 
you  remind  me,  by  the  offer  of  similar  work,  though  far 
heavier  and  more  responsible,  at  Westminster.  That  offer  I 
felt  it  my  duty  to  accept ;  but  no  one  can  feel  as  keenly  as  I 
do  how  greatly  I  shall  need  the  support  of  every  friend  that  I 
may  fulfil  in  any  degree  for  the  service  of  Christ  and  His 
Church  this  new  charge.  May  I  ask  you  and  my  other 
friends  at  Peterborough  to  think  of  me  at  Whitsuntide  in  that 
clause  of  the  Litany  where  we  ask  for  the  illumination  of  the 
ministry  ?  We  can  be  strong  only  so  far  as  we  realise  our 
union — in  many  parts  and  in  many  fashions — as  one  Body  in 
Christ,  as  members  of  the  Body  of  Christ,  living  by  the  energy 
of  His  life. 

May  all  among  whom  I  was  allowed  for  so  many  years  to 
labour  know  the  fulness  of  that  life!  —  Ever  yours  most 
faithfully,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 

In  his  text -book  on  St.  Peter's  Day  1883  my 
father  enters  the  three  words  "  Not  at  Peterborough." 
It  had  been  his  hope  to  assist  at  a  worthy  celebration 
of  this  festival  in  the  city  bearing  the  Apostle's  name, 
and  he  thus  simply  notes  his  disappointment  in  his 
removal  from  the  scene. 

The  following  are  some  selected  letters  belonging 
to  this  period  (1869-1883): — 


HARROW,  igth  October  1869. 

My  dear  Mrs.  Hort — May  I  ask  a  favour  of  you  ?     When 
I  was  at  Peterborough  I  put  on  paper  a  few  thoughts  about 


Cathedrals,  which  have  troubled  me.  I  should  be  very  glad 
to  know  that  Mr.  Hort  agrees  with  me  in  the  main,  and  yet 
I  dare  not  send  the  proof  to  him,  for  he  would,  I  fear,  allow 
it  to  distract  him  from  other  work.  But  if  you  thought  that 
he  might  read  through  the  pages  at  tea-time  in  half  an  hour, 
not  more,  and  simply  add  a  query  or  a  cross  to  anything 
doubtful  or  wrong,  it  would  be  a  satisfaction  to  me.  If,  how 
ever,  you  think  that  the  temptation  to  elaborate  criticism 
would  be  too  strong,  then  I  will  only  ask  you  to  return  the 
papers  to  me  at  once. 

I  trust  that  the  week  on  the  moors  brought  all  the  good 
to  Mr.  Hort  which  you  expected.  If  I  may  judge  from  his 
letters,  he  seems  to  be  very  vigorous  now,  and  I  am  sanguine 
that  the  Lectures  will  be  a  relief.  It  is  an  immense  comfort 
to  me  that  the  diminution  of  my  school  work  makes  it  possible 
for  me  to  go  on  steadily  with  the  terrible  text. 

Brookie  has  largely  developed  the  schoolboy's  wants  and 
feelings :  his  notes  speak  commonly  of  want  of  money  and 
the  joys  of  football.  My  godson  has  not  reached  this  stage 
yet,  but  I  hope  that  he  is  moving  towards  it. — Believe  me 
to  be,  yours  most  sincerely,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 


PETERBOROUGH,  z^thjune  1870. 

My  dear  Lightfoot — Dr.  Smith's  letter  is  an  immense  relief. 
If  he  is  willing  to  relieve  us,  I  rejoice.  However,  he  has 
never  been  without  abundant  supplies  unused.  As  to  the 
Onomasticon,  I  cannot  quite  agree  with  you,  as  I  always  shrank 
from  it,  and  when  that  is  removed  all  is  in  good  train.  There, 
you  see,  I  am  prepared  to  resign  unconditionally  if  Dr.  Smith 
wishes  it.  A  conference  would  be  impossible  for  me  just  now. 
I  have  been  absent  so  much  that  I  must  not  go  away  again 
till  the  next  Revision  meeting ;  but  I  will  make  you  my 
plenipotentiary  on  the  condition  that  you  find  me  relief  from 
the  burden.  I  don't  want  to  write  any  articles.  Really  now 
I  don't  think  I  can  afford  to  contribute.  The  best  thing  for 
us  to  do  will  be  to  furnish  Dr.  Smith  with  lists  of  the  men 

330          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

whom  we  have  engaged  and  leave  him  to  proceed.  I  expect 
that  he  is  more  alarmed  by  the  size  than  the  slowness,  and 
there  is  something  to  be  said  on  this  point  from  the  commercial 
point  of  view.  .  .  . 

I  hope  that  I  am  clear  about  Dr.  Smith.  All  that  I  care 
for  is  to  be  set  free,  as  he  proposes,  this  course,  and  the  sooner 
the  better. — Ever  yours,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 

To  THE  REV.  J.   LL.   DAVIES 

PETERBOROUGH,  28/7*  June  1870. 

My  dear  Davies — Your  volume  of  Sermons 1  has  been  lying 
on  my  desk  for  many  days  reproaching  me  silently,  and  one 
petty  duty  after  another  has  delayed  my  thanks.  Constant 
preaching,  to  which  I  am  not  accustomed,  made  the  sermons 
unusually  welcome,  for  it  is  a  great  refreshment  to  hear  some 
voice  besides  one's  own,  and  to  be  hurried  into  new  channels 
of  thought.  If  I  may  pick  out  one  sermon,  shall  it  be  that 
on  Indulgences  ?  In  this  it  seems  to  me  that  your  fairness 
has  given  you  a  power  of  exposing  the  substantial  immorality 
of  the  theory  which  I  never  saw  so  clearly  put.  Protestants 
are  generally  both  unjust  and  weak  on  this  point.  But  I 
prefer  to  enjoy  the  sermons  to  criticising.  —  Ever  yours 
affectionately,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 

(On  the  Franco-German  War.) 

PETERBOROUGH,  yd  August  1870. 

Your  most  kind  note  makes  it  necessary  for  me  to  say 
how  far  I  do  not  agree  with  you.  I  cannot,  on  the  evidence 
before  me,  find  that  France  is  much  more  to  blame  than 
Prussia,  if  at  all.  This  war  is  but  the  second  act  of  the 
Austrian  war,  and  as  far  as  I  could  judge  that  war  was  more 
unjustifiable  than  the  Italian  war.  Probably  Bismarck  is  much 
more  adroit  than  Louis  Napoleon.  But  I  do  not  think  that 
he  is  one  bit  more  honest  or  more  patriotic.  Prussia  was 
obviously  no  less  unwilling  to  submit  to  arbitration  than 

1    The  Gospel  and  Modern  Life. 


France,  and  even  if  it  were  otherwise,  we  must  remember 
that  all  Prussia  wishes  is  to  keep  what  she  has  unjustly 
seized.  She  has  her  share  of  the  plunder  already.  We 
failed  culpably  to  speak  in  the  Danish  war,  in  the  war  in 
South  Italy,  in  the  Austrian  war.  Now  at  length  I  hope  that 
the  people  will  make  their  voice  clearly  heard — the  Govern 
ment  seem  helpless — and  profess  that  nations  have  faith  and 

Probably  the  letter  to  which  you  refer  spoke  of  another 
sermon  which  followed  that  which  I  sent  you,  in  which  I 
tried  to  base  our  duty  of  public  prayer  "  for  those  afflicted  by 
war"  on  the  idea  of  the  brotherhood  of  nations.  How 
unnatural  the  destruction  of  small  powers  really  is :  how 
pagan  in  essence !  In  this  too  Comte  has  seen  the  Christian 
theory  of  states. 


PETERBOROUGH,  zyd  August  1870. 

My  dear  Professor  Moulton — The  text  which  Dr.  Vaughan 
has  published  remains  unchanged  from  the  first  edition,  and 
represents  in  the  main  my  recension  at  that  distant  date 
without  conference  in  details  with  Mr.  Hort.  We  have  now 
revised  the  text  together,  and  the  joint  work  will  differ  in 
many  details  from  the  text  given  by  Dr.  Vaughan.  I  have 
not,  however,  any  copy  of  it  which  I  can  send  you,  but  in  a 
short  time  I  could  tell  you  our  judgment  on  any  special  read 
ings.  You  received,  I  hope,  a  little  sermon  which  I  ventured 
to  send  you,  chiefly  because  the  occasion  made  me  think  of 
the  infinite  strengthening  which  our  joint  Holy  Communion 
brought  us. — Yours  very  sincerely,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 


lyh  December  1870. 

...  On  getting  to  Westminster  I  had  just  time  to  dress 
myself.  On  coming  down  I  found  a  short,  stout  gentleman 
alone  in  the  drawing-room,  with  a  bright,  pleasant  face,  clear- 

332          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

cut  aquiline  nose,  nearly  bald,  and  to  my  surprise  the  servant 
said,  "  Le  Pere  Hyacinthe  "  !  I  should  have  been  bewildered 
had  not  I  heard  that  he  had  been  some  little  time  ago  at 
the  Deanery.  He  spoke  no  English,  and  for  some  time  I 
was  obliged  to  try  my  best  to  answer  his  questions  and  talk  a 
little  in  French,  in  which  effort  he  very  kindly  encouraged  me 
by  his  understanding  my  desire  to  speak.  As  he  spoke  of 
the  work  of  Revision,  I  had  a  little  to  say.  Mr.  Blakesley  was 
the  only  one  besides  at  dinner,  and  only  French  was  spoken. 
Lady  Augusta  was  far  the  best.  The  Dean  was  copious,  but 
not  very  good.  I  preserved  a  discreet  silence,  but  listened 
with  satisfaction. 


CAMBRIDGE,  i&h  February  1871. 

...  I  feel  very  strongly  about  the  "  Deceased  Wife's 
Sister's  Bill."  On  that  I  have  never  wavered.  Some  few 
wealthy  people  have  broken  the  law  and  they  wish  to  escape 
the  consequence  of  the  offence.  The  agitation  is  utterly 
uncalled  for.  I  don't  see  a  single  argument  in  favour  of  the 
Bill,  and  against  it  is  the  whole  theory  of  family  life. 

PETERBOROUGH,  6th  August  1872. 

I  have  been  looking  for  the  hundredth  time  at  Dr. 
Arnold's  Life — looking  with  wonder  and  profit.  How  he  did 
his  work  I  cannot  tell.  He  was  forty-seven  when  he  died. 
So  strong  and  tender ! 


PETERBOROUGH,  28t/i  January  1873. 

My  dear  Professor  Moulton — You  have  fairly  defeated  me, 
and  I  surrender  at  discretion.  May  I  say  that,  pondering  over 
your  known  kindness,  and  fearing  lest  one  incautious  word  or 
act  on  my  part  might  lead  you  to  do  what  you  have  indeed 
done,  I  took  counsel  with  myself,  and  thought  that  if  I  kept 
absolute  silence  till  our  next  meeting  I  might  borrow  your 


notes  on  the  spot.1  But  your  most  generous  and  unsparing 
labour  has  anticipated  me.  I  can  only  hope  that  I  may  learn 
from  your  patience  and  self-denial.  This  fragment  of  the 
work,  I  can  say  honestly,  is  that  which  I  shall  always  value 
most,  and  I  am  glad  that  it  has  its  own  external  character. 

All  being  well,  I  trust  to  return  to  Cambridge  on  Friday 
evening,  and,  as  far  as  I  can  see,  I  shall  not  again  be  pre 
vented  from  attending  our  meetings  by  official  work  till  July 
at  least.  I  cannot  offer  you  such  thanks  as  I  would :  accept 
such  as  I  can  give. — Ever  yours  most  sincerely, 


HUNSTANTON,  2qth  ftine  1873. 

If  you  load  me  with  these  irredeemable  debts,  I  shall  find 
my  only  safety  in  retiring  from  the  Company.  I  do  not  see 
how  I  can  dare  to  be  absent  again.  No  injunction  can 
restrain  your  labour.  You  must,  however,  let  me  say  that  if 
unhappily  I  should  again  be  kept  away  from  a  meeting,  I  will 
only  receive  the  loan  of  your  notes,  if  you  will  allow  me  this 
favour.  I  shall  value  your  little  books  as  the  most  precious 
of  my  records,  but  now  they  have  filled  their  vacant  place. 


loM  Sunday  after  Trinity,  1873. 

It  is  impossible  not  to  feel  some  satisfaction  at  having 
preached  my  last  sermon  of  this  residence.  Sermons  certainly 
don't  become  less  anxious,  nor  more  pleasant.  However, 
one  ought  to  be  glad  to  say  what  one  has  to  say ;  but  that  is 
so  hard,  and  then  one  has  not  faith,  as  one'  should  have,  that 
words,  however  spoken,  if  true,  will  do  their  work.  I  wish  I 
could  have  courage  just  to  throw  down  the  paper  and  ask 
whether  I  make  myself  clear,  and  whether  any  one  believes 
me ;  whether  I  believe  myself  in  any  practical  way.  Truth 
fs  so  wonderfully  large  that  I  wonder  when  any  one  says, 
"This  is  all  false":  all  false  and  it  is?  You  see  that  there 

1  Notes  taken  at  a  N.T.  Revision  meeting,  which  my  father  was  unable 
to  attend. 

334          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

is  something  of  a  sermon  still  left  in  me ;  but  for  the  rest  I 
must  be  a  Quaker  preacher. 


PETERBOROUGH,  \yth  September  [1873?]. 

My  dear  Benson — Ta  dp\aia  7rapfjX.6€V — I8ov  yeyove  Kouva. 
Can  any  words  be  fuller  of  promise  and  teaching  than  these, 
which  I  just  read  in  the  Cathedral?  May  you  find  them 
more  and  more  true  day  by  day.  And  then  what  will  be 
wanting  ?  I  rejoice  that  you  are  able  at  once  to  make  a  good 
beginning  of  work.  As  to  the  questions,  I  seem  to  see  my 
way  very  clearly. 

Tell  everything  to  the  Dean  and  Chapter.  They  will  at 
least  see  that  with  such  offers  you  could  but  make  the 
experiment.  This  experiment  seems  to  me  to  be  free  from  all 
risk,  while  it  is  a  great  absolute  good.  The  Chapter,  as  such, 
clearly  has  no  voice  in  the  matter,  yet  it  must  be  right  to  lay 
the  whole  plan  before  them  and  win  their  sympathy,  as,  I  feel 
sure,  you  will  do  more  or  less  speedily. 


2nd  Sunday  after  Trinity ',  1874. 

When  I  came  in  just  now  a  full  moon  made  the  Cathedral 
"ebon  and  ivory."  I  shall  try  now  to  put  some  thoughts  in 
order  for  next  Sunday.  It  is  very  hard  to  recall  one's  own 
thoughts  at  Ordination.  My  two  seasons  were  very  unhappy 
in  many  ways,  and  I  cannot  now  bring  back  any  word  then 
spoken.  Yet  it  ought  not  to  be  so.  I  suppose  that  no  text 
was  impressed  upon  us.  How  strange  men's  fancies  are  !  I 
find  that  the  attendance  of  the  clergy  in  surplices  at  Mr. 
Perceval's  funeral  is  regarded  as  part  of  "  a  vast  conspiracy 
to  subvert  the  principles  of  the  Reformation."  .  .  .  Really 
things  are  puzzling.  Why  cannot  we  trust  one  another  a 
little  more  ? 


To  THE  REV.  F.  J.  A.  HORT 

PETERBOROUGH,  2ist  July  1875. 

My  dear  Hort — Twice,  as  you  know,  our  circle  has  been 
broken.  Connie,  who  was  called  away  first,  seemed  to  me 
the  brightest  of  our  children,  and  I  can  see  her  still  as  clearly 
as  any  of  them ;  but  I  cannot — I  could  not  even  at  the  time 
— feel  altogether  without  thankfulness  if  the  battle  has  been 
short.  A  brother  or  a  sister  who  is  always  a  child  is  a 
precious  joy  to  a  family.  I  hope  that  Mrs.  Hort  may  not  be 
over-wearied  with  the  long  anxiety.  We  have  often  thought 
of  you,  and  Fossie  has  been  delighted  to  send,  as  he  thought, 
good  tidings. — Ever  yours  affectionately, 



21  st  December  1875. 

My  dear  Mr.  Macmillan — -Very  many  thanks  for  the 
Bishop's  sake,  and  many  for  myself.  I  shall  be  very  glad  to 
have  "George  Eliot."  Romola  is,  I  think,  the  greatest  novel 
of  the  time.  Darwin  I  have  already.  If  you  happen  to 
come  across  Mill's  letter,  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  have  it. — 
With  every  good  wish,  yours  very  sincerely, 


A  sad  fear  has  just  crossed  my  mind  that  no  copy  of  the 
last  edition  of  the  Canon  was  sent  to  Dr.  Ceriani.  Please 
send  one,  suitably  bound,  with  the  writer's  most  grateful 


CAMBRIDGE,  24/7*  April  1876. 

My  dear  Farrar — I  have  only  just  heard  that  you  have 
really  accepted  the  Canonry  at  Westminster.  May  you  find 
all  the  happiness  and  blessing  in  this  new  work  which  you 
have  found  at  Marlborough  !  There  is  no  place  in  England, 

336          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

I  have  always  thought,  which  has  the  same  interest  as  West 
minster,  not  even  Canterbury.  The  Confessor's  Chapel  is 
unique  in  the  world,  and  must  inspire  those  whose  office 
encourages  them  to  take  its  lessons  to  themselves. — Wishing 
you  again  most  heartily  all  strength  and  joy,  ever  yours  most 
sincerely,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 


TRINITY  COLLEGE,  Ascension  Day,  1876. 

:My  dear  Benson — Lightfoot  told  me  of  the  offer.1  We  had 
indeed  spoken  of  the  matter  as  soon  as  the  vacancy  was 
known.  I  could  only  say  as  I  felt,  that  it  seemed  to  me  that 
in  the  present  crisis  Calcutta  requires  a  man  who  is  not 
divided.  We  must  accept  the  fact  that  much  is  impossible 
for  us  which  might  be  possible  if  we  were  free ;  on  the  other 
hand,  perhaps  there  is  compensating  power.  As  the  question 
appeared  to  me  from  without,  I  could  not  then  plead  against 
your  judgment,  however  much  I  should  have  rejoiced  if  you 
had  found  a  distinct  call.  The  work  in  itself  is,  I  think,  the 
greatest  in  opportunity  which  the  whole  Church  can  offer. — 
Ever  yours  affectionately,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 


(Bishop  Designate  of  Truro) 

CAMBRIDGE,  7//z  March  1877. 

My  dear  Benson  —  Wickenden's  criticism  to  me  is  a 
little  more  flattering.  I  venture  to  think  that  a  Bishop's 
shield  should  have  an  episcopal  sign  upon  it,  and  that  early 
heraldry  is  not  always  simple.  .  .  . 

I2th  March  1877. 

Do  you  not  want  the  cross  of  St.  Patrick  (if  any)  ?  At  any 
rate,  I  deprecate  green  as  the  colour  of  modern  Ireland.  I 
share  Wickenden's  fear  of  excessive  complications.  Could 

1  Of  the  Bishopric  of  Calcutta. 


you  (another  alteration)  take   the   fifteen   bezants  in  a  chief 
sable  ?     It  is  the  border,  of  course,  which  complicates  : 

(A  drawing  of  the  shield.) 

My  last  suggestion  !  and  perhaps  monstrous,  but  I  cannot 
even  look  to  see  possible  horrors.  (Another  drawing). — Ever 
yours  affectionately,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 

You  might  on  this  last  device  represent  nature  by  the  leaf. 
But  ?  ?  ? 


WESTMINSTER,  I'jth  May  1877. 

My  Wagner  zeal  was  effective  and  I  went  in  due  course  to 
the  Albert  Hall.  The  concert  was  not  too  long — not  more 
than  two  hours — and  the  music  was  quite  a  new  sensation. 
It  is,  of  course,  a  very  long  time  since  I  heard  any  orchestral 
music,  but  still  I  cannot  think  that  I  ever  heard  any  like  this. 
Even  at  a  first  hearing  the  combinations  and  successions  of 
different  groups  of  instruments  carried  one  away,  and  as  two 
pieces  were  repeated,  it  was  easy  to  see  how  much  their  effect 
would  be  increased  by  knowledge.  One  piece  was  intended 
to  create  an  impression  answering  to  the  contemplative  repose 
of  an  old  German  Sunday.  I  felt  as  if  I  could  have  thought 
out  a  sermon  while  the  sound  bore  one  along.  The  overture 
was  a  holiday,  and  its  parts  brought  out  in  the  liveliest 
manner  the  different  groups  of  holiday-makers.  I  wish  that 
you  could  have  been  with  me.  Even  alone  I  clapped 


CAMBRIDGE,  i^th  December  1877. 

My  dear  Farrar — It  was  a  great  pleasure  to  me  to  see  you 
in  your  home  and  in  your  work  this  morning.  I  must  thank 
-you  too  for  letting  me  speak  on  a  subject  which  is,  if  possible, 
more  near  to  my  work  than  yours,  as  I  have  still  to  deal  with 
the  young.  I  am  sure  that,  as  charged  with  the  office  of 
teachers,  our  duty  is  to  speak  with  simplicity  as  we  see  the 

VOL.  I  Z 

338          LIFE  OF  BISHOP   WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

truth — a  very  little  of  the  truth — and  to  refuse  to  enter  into 
controversy.  Let  Scripture  slowly  speak  its  full  message.  It 
was,  I  see,  the  last  chapter  of  Difficulties  of  Belief,  by  Mr.  Birks, 
to  which  I  referred. — Ever  yours  most  sincerely, 


To  THE  REV.  F.  J.  A.  HORT 

PETERBOROUGH,  26th  August  1878. 

My  dear  Hort — We  have  been  thinking  of  you  in  Wales 
very  often,  and  I  have  been  imagining  an  Introduction  taking 
shape  in  a  modest  form.  It  will,  I  feel  sure,  be  impossible 
for  you  to  find  satisfaction  without  a  second  volume,  but  that 
will  necessitate  a  short  preliminary  statement  for  the  text. 
It  would  not  be  difficult  to  make  such  a  provisional  notice, 
and  I  do  not  feel  absolutely  pledged  to  Macmillan  to  have 
the  text  ready  for  printing  this  year.  I  do  not  in  the  least 
fear  the  effect  of  partial  criticisms,  if  a  clear  statement  be 
given  of  what  we  have  done,  and  generally  why. 

Though  I  have  had  no  one  reading  with  me  this  summer, 
I  have  done  very  little.  I  hope  to  finish  the  rough  copy  of 
the  notes  on  St.  John  for  the  press ;  only  a  part  of  a  chapter 
now  remains — but  Sermons  are  terrible,  and  a  Dean  will  be 
a  great  relief.  The  appointment  did  not  much  surprise  me. 
I  knew  that  Perowne  was  anxious  to  leave  Cambridge,  and 
Lightfoot  told  me  that  he  wished  this  place.  He  comes  to  a 
Chapter  burdened  with  debt,  to  a  very  large  house  and  a 
small  income.  He  was  here  last  week,  and  most  pleasant 
and  hopeful.  His  leaving  Cambridge  just  now  is  most  per 
plexing.  The  practical  vacancy  of  the  Hebrew  chair  com 
plicates  everything.  I  have  not  heard  from  Lightfoot  since 
the  appointment  was  made.  We  hope  to  meet  the  Bensons 
on  Monday  on  our  way  to  Etretat  (Hotel  Hauville,  I 

As  for  politics,  I  rejoice  at  least  that  some  one  has  had 
courage  to  incur  responsibility.  Appeals  to  the  mob  had 
taken  all  heart  out  of  me.  I  really  intend  to  vote  at  the 
next  elections  (as  far  as  I  can  see)  in  gratitude. — Ever  yours 
affectionately,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 



E.C.C.,  LONDON,  22nd  July  1881.     ; 

My  dear  Cubitt — As  our  work  goes  on,  I  am  beginning  to 
feel  very  anxious  from  the  difficulty  of  getting  representative, 
and  especially  statesmanlike,  evidence.  We  have  heard  many 
witnesses,  chiefly  clergy  and  ecclesiastical  lawyers,  but  they 
regard  the  problems  of  Church  action  from  one  point  of  view  ; 
and,  if  I  may  venture  to  say  so  much,  they  do  not  give  very 
much  help  towards  the  practical  solution  of  the  questions 
before  us.  Few  things  can  be  more  unpleasant  than  to 
appear  as  a  witness,  but  there  are  occasions  when  stronger 
influences  overcome  even  this  displeasure,  and  several  of  us 
hope  that  you  will  be  willing  to  say  how  you  regard  the 
matter  of  Church  jurisdiction.  I  would  not  express  my 
own  earnest  wish  if  I  did  not  feel  that  the  need  is  urgent. 
Perhaps  I  exaggerate  the  importance  of  the  crisis,  but  it 
seems  to  me  that  the  future  of  our  Church  may  be  very 
greatly  affected  by  the  work  that  is  being  attempted  now; 
and  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  those  who  speak  most  often 
and  most  readily  may  not  represent  the  sum  of  English  feel 
ings.  At  any  rate,  no  effort  must  be  spared  to  gain  as  clear 
an  expression  as  possible  of  the  different  views  of  Churchmen. 
Sir  R.  Cross  tells  me  that  he  hopes  to  see  you  on  Sunday. 
He  will,  I  am  sure,  support  my  request  and  press  it  with 
more  weighty  arguments.  There  is  indeed  cause  for  doing 
what  we  can ;  this  thought  only  justifies  me  in  being  here. — 
Ever  yours  affectionately,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT.] 


PETERBOROUGH,  yd  August  1881. 

My  dear  Bishop — Very  many  thanks  for  the  Magazine, 
which  is  full  of  interest.  I  dare  to  make  one  criticism  on 
the  readers  on  Church  Courts.  .  .  .  His  evidence  was  most 
unsatisfactory,  and  even  flippant.  I  wish  that  you  could 
have  had  some  one  of  more  sympathetic  views  to  balance 
him.  .  .  .  But  what  a  work  it  is !  It  is  a  perpetual  night- 

340          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

mare.  That  thought  brings  a  main  question.  Where  are 
you  going  in  September?  It  must  be  (say)  500  miles  from 

How  vivid  Dr.  Vaughan's  picture  of  the  young  Arthur 
Stanley  was,  and  how  new !  But  what  a  blank  there  is  which 
cannot  be  filled  up  !  Still,  the  work  was  done,  and  done  with 
great  joy.  But  fix  the  place  where  we  can  meet  and  breathe 
in  September. — Ever  yours,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 


PETERBOROUGH,  i$th  August  1881. 

My  dear  Hort — Your  note  reflects,  I  think,  the  passing 
wave  of  cold  and  rain,  or  I  should  feel  more  unhappy  about 
it,  for  it  does  not  breathe  the  vigour  of  the  mountains.  But 
I  can  sympathise  with  you,  though  just  now  two  young  Eton 
masters  are  here  reading  a  little  in  preparation  for  Holy 
Orders,  and  they  rouse  one  with  fresh  thoughts. 

I  enclose  a  note  which  came  from  Godet.  I  replied,  as 
on  other  grounds  I  wanted  to  write  to  him,  that  I  did  not 
see  how  to  tell  what  the  Apostles  meant  without  first  deter 
mining  what  they  wrote — a  truism  which  seems  to  have 
become  a  parodox. 

You  missed  Dr.  Thayer.  He  called  here  for  half  an  hour 
— a  most  bright,  vigorous  man.  He  thought  that  the  text 
was  beautifully  printed.  .  .  . 

PETERBOROUGH,  ijthjuly  1882. 

The  next  (and  last)  E.C.C.  meetings  will  be  very  anxious. 
It  seems  doubtful  whether  anything  can  really  be  done.  I 
have  written  a  little  memorandum,  as  oil-  upon  the  waters, 
but  I  am  not  very  sanguine. 


PETERBOROUGH,  ztfhjuly  1882. 

I  never  see  periodicals  except  by  some  rare  chance,  and  I 
have  not  noticed  anything  about  the  English  Bible  except  the 


certain  determination  of  the  printer  of  the  G.  H.  Tyndale 
(Tindale),  which  followed  from  my  happily  stumbling  on  a 
tract  in  our  Chapter  Library.  Mr.  Bradshaw  has  written  a 
paper  on  the  point.  He  had  most  ingeniously  conjectured 
what  our  little  tract  proved  to  be  fact. 


CAMBRIDGE,  17 'th  May  1883. 

My  dear  Bishop — Very  many  people,  I  find,  are  greatly 
distressed  at  words  put  into  the  Archbishop's  mouth  by  the 
Standard.  He  tells  me  that  he  did  not  speak  of  "  the  throne 
of  the  martyred  Laud."  Hort  thinks  that  some  one  should 
contradict  the  alleged  quotation.  Should  not  you  do  this? 
If  you  don't  correct,  perhaps  some  one  else  will.  Hort 
thinks  that  the  phrase  will  be  much  worked.  Alas !  alas ! 
— Ever  yours,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 


CAMBRIDGE,  2$rd  July  1883. 

.  .  .  You  will  be  very  glad  to  hear  that  I  had  this  morning 
a  very  touching  message  from  the  Bishop  of  Peterborough. 
All  (in  which  I  thought  him  wrong)  will,  I  hope,  be  for  ever 
forgotten.  It  was  a  very  great  relief  to  me  to  hear. 

The  following  are  selected  letters  to  his  children, 
written  during  this  period  : — 


ST/IPPOLYT'S,  Thursday. 

My  dear  Katie — You  have  been  such  an  excellent  secretary 
tliat  I  must  send  you  one  line — it  will  not  be  much  more — 
to  thank  you  for  doing  your  work  so  well.  I  can  understand 
perfectly  the  meaning  of  the  different  notes  about  which  you 
tell  me,  and  so  I  have  been  able  to  do  all  that  they  require. 

342          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

We  were  not  able  to  leave  Peterborough  till  nearly  four 
to-day.  All  the  morning  after  service  I  was  listening  to 
little  boys  from  Arthur's  to  Brookie's  age  singing  for  places 
in  the  choir.  There  were  only  two  places,  and  we  had 
twenty-one  candidates.  Was  it  not  strange  for  me  to  be  a 
music  judge  ?  Of  course,  there  were  others  who  could  judge 
far  better,  and  we  were  able  to  agree  on  the  first,  and  two 
seemed  equal  for  the  second  place,  and  they  will  have  to 
try  again. 

We  are  very  glad  to  hear  that  you  are  all  well  and  happy. 
Tell  Brookie  that  I  am  looking  forward  to  the  good  effect  of 
his  teaching  Arthur. 

With  love  to  all,  your  most  affectionate  father, 



PETERBOROUGH,  2qth  January  1873. 

My  dear  Brooke — We  were  very  glad  to  hear  of  your 
promotion  and  Arthur's  placing.  Both  advances  have,  I 
hope,  been  well  deserved,  and  will  be  well  maintained.  I 
should  like  to  know  what  your  subjects  are  for  the  term. 
I  may  have  some  books  which  will  help  you.  If  you  are 
doing  any  verse  subjects  you  will  find  it  an  excellent  plan  to 
keep  notes  of  characteristic  Greek  or  Latin  turns  of  thought 
or  language.  Nothing  is  more  useful  for  style  than  this.  I 
have  my  old  note-books  still. 

Keep  fresh  all  your  good  resolves ;  and  while  you  work, 
work  with  all.  your  heart.  At  other  times,  if  home  thoughts 
can  happily  mix  with  all  you  do,  you  will  be  happy  and  do 
what  we  all  wish. — Ever  your  affectionate  father, 


TRINITY  COLLEGE,  i$tk  May  1873. 

My  dear  Brooke — We  should  all  have  been  very  glad  if 
you  had  been  successful  in  the  Scholarship  Examination,  but, 
as  I  have  often  said,  it  is  of  more  consequence  to  do  one's 
best  than  to  get  scholarships  or  prizes,  and  if  failure  helps  us 



to  find  out  our  faults  and  moves  us  to  mend  them,  then 
when  the  first  disappointment  is  over  we  may  even  be 
thankful  for  them.  It  is  a  very  long  time  since  I  read  in 
Plato  that  the  worst  thing  for  a  man  is  to  get  a  reward 
without  deserving  it.  Your  uncle  has  very  kindly  written  to 
me,  and  what  he  says  of  the  Examination  is,  on  the  whole, 
quite  encouraging.  Your  Greek  Translation  seems  to  have 
been  your  best  paper,  and  I  think  that  I  should  prefer  your 
doing  well  in  that  to  your  doing  well  in  any  other.  .  .  . 
Take  as  much  pains  as  you  can  with  the  repetitions,  and  try 
to  keep  them  up  after  they  are  said.  Nothing  is  so  valuable 
for  composition.  I  told  mamma  that,  hard  as  the  Epistle  to 
the  Hebrews  is,  I  thought  it  best  for  you  to  use  only  your 
marginal  references,  and  to  take  down  carefully  the  notes 
given  to  you.  In  this  way  you  will  really  learn  most. 
Paley's  notes  on  ^Eschylus  are  full  of  interest,  but  you  won't 
enjoy  the  Agamemnon  fully  till  you  have  read  it  ten  times. 
The  Chapel  bell  has  nearly  done,  and  I  have  a  lecture  this 
evening.  Love  to  Arthur.  —  Ever  your  most  affectionate 
father,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 

To  A  SON 

BOURNEMOUTH,  %th  April  1874. 

You  would  probably  be  as  much  distressed  as  we  were  by 
the  last  term's  report.  Only  one  thing  in  it  gave  a  little 
hope,  that  there  was  some  improvement  towards  the  end. 
I  trust,  then,  that  when  you  looked  over  what  you  had  done 
and  could  do  in  the  prospect  of  Confirmation,  you  felt  your 
faults  and  resolved  by  God's  help  to  mend  them.  I  know  by 
my  own  experience  how  very  hard  it  is  to  keep  attention 
resolutely  fixed,  and  to  strive  always  to  do  one's  best.  But 
we  can  be  satisfied  with  nothing  less ;  and  whatever  our 
weakness  may  be  we  can  be  made  strong  to  fulfil  our  duty. 
You  will  need,  I  am  sure,  to  fix  very  stern  laws  for  your  own 
guidance,  to  mark  out  hours  with  an  inflexible  law,  and  keep 
to  them.  It  will  be  a  great  help  also  to  pause  from  time  to 
time  in  the  midst  of  work  and  to  quietly  ask  yourself  whether 
it  is  your  best,  and  if  not — as  often  it  will  not  be — to  send 

344          LIFE  OF  BISHOP   VVESTCOTT         CHAP. 

one  winged  thought  upwards  and  get  strength  in  answer  to  it. 
Every  day  which  sees  duty  done  with  lack  of  zeal  will  make 
you  weaker;  every  effort,  of  course,  will  make  you  firmer. 
I  wish  that  I  were  at  home  that  we  might  read  something 
together,  but  Daisy  will  encourage  you  to  throw  your  heart 
into  what  you  do.  If  you  fail  in  your  new  endeavours  do 
not  be  troubled :  you  will  not  fail  in  the  end.  May  God 
bless  you  and  help  you  to  do  all  that  we  would  have  you 
do  ! — Ever  your  most  affectionate  father, 



PETERBOROUGH,  ^ist  August  1875. 

My  dear  Brooke — Arthur — Harry — George — Foss— 
Bernie — Basil — On  the  evening  before  we  start,  as  we  hope, 
I  will  write  to  send  you  all  good  wishes  and  hopes  for  a  happy 
week  at  Peterborough  before  you  are  scattered  to  work  again. 
(Does  Basil  work  yet  ?)  From  all  I  can  learn,  these  have 
been  happy  holidays,  and  I  have  been  very  glad  to  have  the 
scraps  of  work  which  have  reached  me.  I  am  quite  sure 
that  work  heartily  done  does  not  make  play  less  pleasant. 

If  we  carry  out  our  plans,  I  expect  that  we  shall  bring 
home  many  amusing  recollections  of  Brittany.  It  is  a  place 
which  I  have  longed  to  see  since  first  I  knew  that  there  was 
another  Carnac  besides  that  in  Egypt.  Perhaps  the  stone 
army  will  not  seem  so  imposing  in  reality  as  it  is  in  fancy. 
But  in  any  case  the  gathering  of  those  strange,  rude  monu 
ments  must  be  impressive,  even  if  we  cannot  believe  that 
Druids  had  anything  to  do  with  them.  Shall  I  give  each  of 
you  a  riddle  of  advice  ? 

Br.  Look  at  everything  all  round,  behind  and  before,  and 
then  at  last  decide  what  you  will  do  with  it. 

A.  Build  solidly  and  don't  stuff  up  holes  with  putty. 

H.  They  can  conquer  who  believe  they  can.  First 
thoughts  are  best. 

G.  They  win  who  think  they  may  lose.  Second  thoughts 
are  best. 

F.  When  you  have  done  a  thing,  do  it  again  and  again. 


Be.  If  you  are  happy  enough  to  be  right,  be  thankful.  If 
you  are  wrong,  blame  yourself. 

Ba.  Be  very  merry,  and  get  strong  while  you  can. 
Love  to  all. — Ever  your  affectionate  father, 



CAMBRIDGE,  Quinqtiag.  Sunday,  1876. 

My  dear  Arthur — I  am  glad  to  hear  that  you  have  sent  in 
your  name  as  a  candidate  for  Confirmation.  We  shall  all 
often  think  of  you  during  the  time  of  your  preparation.  In 
many  ways,  no  doubt,  it  will  seem  as  if  school  were  a  bad 
place  for  the  quiet  thought  which  you  will  wish  for,  and  yet 
all  my  Harrow  experience  confirmed  me  in  the  belief  that 
school  is  the  best  place  for  a  boy  who  wishes  to  do  his  duty 
to  prepare  himself  solemnly  for  his  work  in  years  to  come. 
He  is  face  to  face  with  the  kind  of  difficulties  which  he  will 
have  to  meet  afterwards  in  other  shapes,  and  I  feel  sure  that 
he  can  get  the  help  which  he  needs  to  support  him.  Con 
firmation  is  a  very  great  opportunity,  and  we  believe,  of 
course,  that  that  laying  on  of  hands  is  much  more.  It  is  a 
kind  of  Christian  ordination,  with  its  consecration  and  its 
blessing.  If  there  are  any  other  boys  in  your  house,  whom 
you  know  well,  who  are  preparing  too,  you  might  find  it  a 
help  to  join  with  them  in  reading.  This  will  give  you  more 
courage  and  steadfastness.  Try  to  make  the  great  facts  of 
Faith  real  to  yourself.  Pause,  for  instance,  when  you  read 
slowly  the  Apostles'  Creed,  and  think  what  each  clause 
means,  as  if  the  history  recorded  were  present  to  you.  May 
God  teach  and  strengthen  you  ! 

Give  my  love  to  Brooke. — Ever  your  most  affectionate 
father,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 


CAMBRIDGE,  2&k  March  1877. 

My  dear  Harry — Till  this  morning  I  quite  fancied  that 
your  Confirmation  would  be  put  off.  Georgie  had  said  that 

346          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

the  Bishop  was  unwell,  and  as  you  come  home  this  week,  I 
fancied  that  it  would  be  too  much  of  a  hurry.  However,  by 
this  time  you  are  confirmed,  I  hope,  and  full  of  confidence 
for  the  future.  It  is  a  great  turning-point  in  life.  I  can 
remember  my  Confirmation  very  well,  but  it  was  not  so 
happy  in  its  circumstances  as  yours  has  been ;  yet  I  was  very 
thankful  for  it,  and  found  it  a  great  help.  You  will  do  so, 
too,  I  do  not  doubt.  As  we  look  for  much  we  find  much. 
That  is  a  very  great  word  which  tells  us  that  "  all  things  are 
possible,"  yet,  as  we  try  to  live  in  the  spirit  of  it,  I  do  not 
think  that  it  will  disappoint  us. 

May  God  bless  you  and  guide  you  in  the  years  to  come, 
and  teach  you  to  see  your  duty  and  to  do  it  in  His  strength  ! 
— Ever  your  most  affectionate  father,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 


CHURCH  STRETTON,  nth  September  1877. 

My  dear  Arthur — I  must  wish  you  a  happy  term  at  the 
beginning  of  your  first  work  by  yourself.  It  will  be  pleasant 
to  have  Gould  for  a  few  weeks  to  help  you  in  shaping  new 
duties,  for  I  gather  that  he  feels  clearly  the  need  of  authority 
in  managing  a  large  house.  I  am  very  anxious,  as  you  know, 
that  the  prefect  system  should  be  made  to  prosper.  It 
requires  care  and  thoughtfulness,  but  it  is  good  alike  for  all. 
You  will  be  able  to  look  after  Foss  a  little,  and  see  that  he 
keeps  with  a  good  set.  I  think  that  he  is  anxious  to  work, 
and  knows  how  much  depends  upon  it,  and  I  hope  that  he 
will  have  fair  opportunity  for  working.  To-day  has  been 
very  wet,  and  the  artillery  were  unable  to  practise.  We  hope 
to  get  out  to  Ludlow  or  Shrewsbury  to-morrow  if  it  is  fine. 
You  would  be  interested  in  the  Certificate  list.  Eton  seems 
to  have  done  far  the  best  of  the  great  schools.  Their  mathe 
matics  seem  to  be  good.  We  are  living  quite  without  news 
papers  here.  The  Daily  News  is  quite  unknown. — Ever 
your  most  affectionate  father,  R  R  WESTCOTT 


TO    HIS    FIFTH    SON 

CHURCH  STRETTON,  i  \th  September  1877. 

My  dear  Foss — You  will  now  be  fairly  entered  on  your 
new  life,  on  which,  as  far  as  we  can  tell,  all  the  future  will 
depend.  I  hope  that  you  will  have  a  very  happy  time,  and 
you  know  well  how  to  make  it  so.  Don't  be  hasty  to  make 
friends.  For  the  first  time  you  can  look  quietly  about  and 
see  what  boys  are  really  like.  Arthur  will  be  able  to  give 
you  some  hints,  though  I  daresay  that  you  will  not  see  much 
of  him.  A  boy's  language  is  a  sure  sign  of  his  character, 
and  I  should  say  quite  certainly  that  you  should  have  nothing 
to  do  with  a  boy  who  uses  words  which  you  would  not  wish 
your  mother  to  hear.  This  is  a  very  simple  rule  and  a  very 
good  one. 

We  hear  that  you  had  a  very  cheerful  time  at  home,  and 
the  weather  was  beautiful  last  week. — Ever  your  most  affec 
tionate  father,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 












348          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 


EASTBOURNE,  i%th  April  1882. 

My  dear  George — My  good  wishes  come  a  little  late,  but 
at  any  rate  they  are  in  time  as  they  are  expressed,  and  yester 
day  was  a  very  full  day,  though  indeed  I  might  have  added 
a  postscript  to  K.'s  letter. 

Good  wishes  this  year  have  a  very  definite  point,  because, 
all  being  well,  you  will  begin  what  is,  I  always  think,  the 
most  decisive  stage  in  life.  My  experience  has  been  that 
men  are  for  the  most  part  all  through  life  what  their  college 
course  makes  them.  Habits,  tempers,  views,  friendships 
formed  then  remain  with  a  wonderful  persistency.  You  know 
what  we  wish  for  you,  what  you  wish  for  yourself.  Work  and 
life  are  hard  enough,  but  if  they  were  not  hard  they  would  be 
worth  little.  As  a  motto  sufficient  for  all  effort  and  full  of 
support  in  the  necessary  disappointments  and  falls  through 
which  we  learn  and  rise,  I  will  give  you — We  are  not  our 
own  till  we  have  won  ourselves.  Love  to  all.  Encourage 
Bernard  a  little  whenever  there  is  occasion. — Ever  your 
most  affectionate  father,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 


(Thanks  for  his  tricycle.     An  interview  with  "  General "  Booth.) 

PETERBOROUGH,  \othjune  1882. 

My  dear  Brooke — I  have  not  yet  recovered  from  the 
shock  of  the  arrival  of  the  chariot  this  morning.  I  am  most 
deeply  touched  by  the  thought  of  you  all.  At  the  same  time, 
many  great  misgivings  rise  in  my  mind,  but  I  cannot  speak 
of  them  now. 

The  Bishop  of  Truro  and  I  had  two  hours'  conversation 
with  General  Booth  yesterday.  What  he  said  and  looked 
was  of  the  deepest  interest.  Much  he  had  evidently  not 
thought  out.  I  tried  to  make  it  clear  that  an  army  cannot 
be  the  final  form  of  a  kingdom :  that  conquest  and  the 
consolidation  of  the  State  must  go  on  together.  Love  to  all. 
—Ever  your  most  affectionate  father,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 




PETERBOROUGH,  lythjunc  1882. 

My  dear  Basil — You  will  be  surprised  to  have  a  letter 
from  me,  but  I  am  very  anxious  that  you  should  take  more 
pains  with  the  letters  which  you  write  home.  You  do  not, 
I  am  sure,  know  how  very  full  of  mistakes  they  are.  I  have 
put  down  on  a  piece  of  paper  the  words  which  were  badly 
spelt  in  the  last  note,  and  I  want  you  to  put  the  right 
spelling  by  the  side  of  them  and  send  the  paper  back  to  me. 
I  dare  say  you  have  had  as  much  rain  as  we  have  had.  The 
rain  will  spoil  the  boat  procession  to-night.  You  will  have 
heard  that  Foss  is  doing  well  at  Cricket  as  in  other  things. 
I  expect  the  Precincts  Eleven  will  be  quite  strong  this  year. 

Do  you  know  that  Brooke  and  Mr.  C.  P.  and  the  others 
have  sent  me  a  tricycle  ?  I  have  been  out  two  rides,  but  I 
shall  not  be  able  to  go  out  to-day,  for  it  is  too  wet. 

Do  all  things  you  have  to  do  as  well  as  you  can — play  and 
work. — Your  affectionate  father,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 




HAVING  treated  of  the  events  of  my  father's  life  at  Peter 
borough  in  somewhat  severe  chronological  sequence,  I 
have  reserved  for  a  separate  chapter  a  general  view  of 
his  work  and  influence  there,  kindly  contributed  by 
Precentor  Phillips.  Dr.  Phillips  has  resisted  the  tempta 
tion  to  say  anything  about  my  father's  home  life,  in 
dicating  in  veiled  language  that  he  leaves  that  topic  to 
me.  I  have  already  endeavoured  to  show  how  active 
an  interest  he  would  take  in  our  boyish  games,  but 
the  mention  of  that  "  long  dark  study  in  the  old  home 
down  the  lane  "  bids  me  say  that,  though  on  occasion 
my  father  proved  himself  a  most  delightful  playfellow, 
in  the  ordinary  way  he  occurred  to  us  as  a  monument 
of  industry  and,  in  all  sincerity  I  say  it,  a  pattern  of 
holiness.  It  was  his  goodness  and  his  marvellous  power 
of  work  that  most  impressed  us.  When  we  came  down 
to  Prayers  in  the  morning,  we  would  find  him  writing 
away  with  a  pile  of  finished  letters  before  him,  and 
when  we  went  to  bed  he  was  working  still.  He  would 
invite  "  volunteers  "  for  an  hour's  work  with  him  in  his 
study  in  the  morning,  and  during  that  hour  we  had 
the  benefit  of  his  tuition,  though  we  did  not  always 


CHAP,  vii  A  MINSTER  MEMORY  351 

appreciate  the  attention,  and  would  on  no  account  be 
detained  beyond  the  promised  hour.  Only  on  one 
occasion  have  I  seen  him  angry,  and  I  mention  the 
circumstance  now,  because  I  feel  convinced  that  his 
lack  of  disciplinary  power,  which  has  been  noted  in  the 
matter  of  his  Harrow  work,  was  due  to  excess  rather 
than  to  defect  of  moral  force.  Conscious  of  his  power, 
he  was,  I  believe,  afraid  to  let  himself  go,  and  so 
habitually  exercised  a  severe  self-restraint.  It  was  in 
the  early  Peterborough  days,  as  he  and  I  were  starting 
out  for  a  walk,  that,  in  passing  through  the  passage, 
which  was  then  being  tiled,  he  remarked  to  the  man  at 
work  that  he  was  not  laying  the  tiles  straight.  The 
man  contradicted  him,  and  then  my  father  said  some 
thing  which  seemed  to  annihilate  the  culprit.  I  was 
astonished  at  my  father  losing  his  temper,  but  more 
astonished  still  at  the  effect  of  his  wrath  :  the  man 
trembled  and  turned  pale,  and  I  thought  he  would  be 
falling  down  dead.1 

The  tricycle  incident2  illustrates  his  extreme 4  dis 
inclination  to  spend  any  money  on  himself,  but  I  must 
confess  that  in  these  days,  in  the  matter  of  clothing,  he 
carried  this  principle  too  far.  He  would  insist  on 
pronouncing  threadbare  and  green  coats,  condemned 
by  the  universal  voice  of  the  family,  as  "  excellent." 

Dr.  Phillips  writes  : — 

Dr.  Westcott's  residence  in  Peterborough  began  and  ended 
always  in  the  Cambridge  long  vacation,  when  he  was  released 
from  his  duties  in  the  Divinity  School.  At  this  time  of  year 

1  About  this  time  my  brother  Brooke,  who  was  reading  for  a  history 
-prize  at  Cheltenham,  imparted  to  me,  amongst  other  fruits  of  his  research, 
that  Edward  I.  once  killed  a  man  by  looking  at  him.     Of  course,  as  in 
fraternal  duty  bound,  I  scoffed  at  the  idea,  and  suggested  that  the  king 
brandished  his  sword  in  the  poor  man's  face ;  but  I  believe  it  now. 

2  Seep.  321. 

352          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

those  who  might  best  have  appreciated  his  stay  in  the 
Minster  precincts  were  usually  seeking  an  atmosphere  more 
exhilarating  than  the  calm  of  an  old  cathedral  close  which 
borders  on  the  fen.  And  yet  the  Minster  precincts  have  a 
charm  of  their  own — a  charm  which  Hawthorne,  in  his 
English  Note-Book^  has  so  pleasantly  pictured  that  it  may 
here  be  quoted  : — 

Of  all  the  lovely  closes  that  I  have  beheld,  that  of  Peter 
borough  Cathedral  is  to  me  the  most  delightful ;  so  quiet  it  is,  so 
solemnly  and  nobly  cheerful,  so  verdant,  so  sweetly  shadowed, 
and  so  presided  over  by  the  stately  Minster,  and  surrounded  by 
ancient  and  comely  habitations  of  Christian  men. 

The  most  enchanting  place,  the  most  enviable  as  a  residence 
in  all  the  world,  seemed  to  me  that  of  the  Bishop's  secretary, 
standing  in  the  rear  of  the  Cathedral,  and  bordering  on  the 
churchyard;  so  that  you  pass  through  hallowed  precincts  in  order 
to  come  at  it,  and  find  it  a  paradise  the  holier  and  sweeter 
for  the  dead  who  lie  so  near. 

We  looked  through  the  gateway  into  the  lawn,  which  hardly 
seemed  to  belong  to  this  world,  so  bright  and  soft  the  sunshine 
was,  so  fresh  the  grass,  so  lovely  the  trees,  so  trained  and  refined 
and  mellowed  down  was  the  whole  nature  of  the  spot,  and  so 
shut  in  and  guarded  from  all  intrusion.  It  is  vain  to  write  more 
about  it ;  nowhere  but  in  England  can  there  be  such  a  spot,  nor 
anywhere  but  in  the  close  of  Peterborough  Cathedral. 

Those  who  knew  Dr.  Westcott  could  hardly  wonder  if, 
while  others  were  wandering  far  and  wide  in  search  of  new 
scenery,  he  should  be  content  to  return  each  year  to  Peter 
borough  and  spend  the  long  vacation  in  a  paradise  such  as 
Hawthorne  has  pictured. 

The  fens  around,  too,  even  apart  from  their  historical 
associations  as  the  battle-ground  of  England,  have,  as 
Kingsley  says,  "  a  beauty  as  of  the  sea,  of  boundless  expanse 
and  freedom "  —  a  beauty  which  Dr.  Westcott  was  no  less 
ready  to  appreciate,  for  his  was  indeed  the  seeing  eye, 
discerning  always 

The  beauty  and  the  wonder  and  the  power, 

The  shapes  of  things,  their  colours,  lights  and  shades, 

Changes,  surprises. 

vir  A   MINSTER   MEMORY  353 

Above  all,  there  was  the  grand  old  Minster  itself,  of  which 
he  could  never  tire.  Here  might  he  "shake  hands  across 
the  centuries  "  with  spiritual  ancestors.  For,  as  he  writes : — 

It  is  by  their  buildings  and  by  their  sculpture  that  the  men  ol 
the  middle  ages  hold  converse  with  us  now.  They  wrote  on 
parchment  in  a  foreign  language,  but  they  wrote  in  a  universal 
language  on  stone,  as  men  cannot  write  now.  When  men  built 
out  of  the  fulness  of  their  hearts,  they  put  their  deepest  thoughts 
into  their  buildings.  Sometimes  they  expressed  things  just  and 
lovely,  sometimes  things  false  and  hateful.  But  with  whatever 
message,  they  do  still  speak  to  us  for  encouragement  and  for 
warning.  The  great  churches  are  the  sermons  of  the  middle 
ages,  and  we  shall  do  well  to  study  them. 

"  Sermons  in  stones  and  good  in  everything  "  indeed  Dr. 
Westcott  always  looked  for,  nor  ever  lived  there  one  more 
convinced  of  the  truth  which  our  great  poet  teaches.  Besides 
his  unfailing  attendance  at  the  Cathedral  services,  he  would 
invariably  spend  some  portion  of  each  day  within  the  walls 
of  the  old  Minster,  in  quiet  thought.  His  son,  Canon 
Westcott,  thus  alludes  to  his  father's  custom : — 

Ofttimes  (I  well  remember)  he  would  go  in  the  quiet  of  evening, 
when  all  was  dark  and  still,  and  taking  his  great  key  with  him, 
make  his  way  into  the  Church  and  sit  there  all  alone.  Then  the 
window  in  the  retroquire,  which  troubled  him  so  greatly  in 
the  brightness  of  the  daytime,  was  quite  invisible  and  troubled 
him  no  more. 

And  he  pondered  who  knows  what  ?  and  gained  what  access 
of  strength  no  man  can  tell,  in  those  moments  of  solemn  silence, 
alone  with  the  great  All-Father. 

At  another  time,  though  the  spare  moments  he  allowed 
himself  were  few,  it  was  a  delight  to  him  to  sketch  with  his 
reed  pen  bits  of  the  monastic  buildings ;  or  to  drink  in  the 
beauty  of  the  world-famed  West  Front  in  the  rich  light  of  a 
fen  sunset. 

In  the  three  grand  arches  he  saw  always,  as  he  says,  "a 
type  of  the  wide  welcome  with  which  the  Church  embraces 
all  who  come  to  her  " ;  and  indeed  every  feature  of  the  old 

VOL.  I  2  A 

354          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

Norman  pile,  in  one  way  or  another,  to  him  expressed  some 
noble  thought. 

He  was  greatly  interested  even  in  less  picturesque  relics 
of  the  old  monastic  life. 

In  the  parvise,  built  a  century  later  than  the  arches  of 
the  West  Front,  and  now  used  as  a  library,  is  preserved  the 
old  chronicle  Swapham,  of  no  small  value  in  the  eyes  of  an 
antiquarian,  but  containing  little  perhaps  that  people  generally 
would  care  to  read.  And  yet  Dr.  Westcott  would  take  great 
pleasure  in  looking  through  its  dry  details  of  monastic  life. 
He  thus  speaks  of  it : — 

Like  other  monastic  annals,  it  forms  a  chequered,  fragmentary 
chronicle,  sometimes  vivid,  in  the  details  of  little  jealousies  and 
strifes  ;  sometimes  pathetic,  in  the  portraiture  of  a  chief  truly  loved 
and  lost.  Every  page  tells  the  same  story.  A  life  of  sympathy, 
of  tenderness,  of  discipline,  of  justice  is  there  seen  to  take  shape 
slowly.  Within  the  monastery  the  noble  and  the  bondsman  were 
equal.  No  one  was  allowed  to  call  anything  his  own  but  his 

For  him  who  ruled  and  for  him  who  served  there  was  an 
absolute  law  to  prefer  his  brother's  good  to  his  own.  Disciplined 
on  these  principles,  each  Benedictine  society  became,  as  it  were, 
a  little  garrison,  holding  a  citadel  of  peace  in  the  midst  of  a 
turbulent  people. 

He  then,  in  his  sermon,  goes  on  to  remind  us  all  of  the  vast 
debt  we  owe  to  the  monks  of  old,  of  whom  men  are  apt  to 
speak  disparagingly  in  these  later  days : — 

We  owe  to  them  nearly  all  that  remains  of  the  literature  of 
Rome.  We  owe  to  them  our  English  Christianity.  We  owe  to 
them  our  greatest  churches  and  cathedrals.  We  owe  to  them 
no  small  share  of  our  national  liberties. 

Nor  would  he  have  us  forget  the  true  cause  of  the  decline 
of  the  monasteries  : — 

They  may  have  fallen  from  their  high  place,  when  the  end  was 
gained  towards  which  they  were  called  to  toil.  The  conditions 
of  a  new  world  may  have  offered  no  scope  for  their  healthy 
action.  But  their  corruption  came  not  because  they  clung  to 

vii  A   MINSTER   MEMORY  355 

their  principle,  but  because  they  abandoned  it ;  and  no  later 
failure  can  obliterate  the  debt  which  is  due  to  their  early 
heroism  and  love. 

Thus  would  he  recall  to  us,  living  on  the  spot,  the  noble 
efforts  of  our  spiritual  ancestors,  leaving  us  "a  precious 
inheritance  to  be  guarded  and  improved."  Again  and  again 
did  he  urge  us  to  think  on  "our  unknown  benefactors — on 
that  innumerable  host  of  toilers  through  the  ages  who  have 
enriched  the  lives  of  all  of  us  with  the  materials  and  the 
instruments  of  effective  action ;  who  have  fashioned  through 
sad  and  weary  conflicts  the  happy  conditions  under  which  we 
fulfil  our  parts  ;  who  have  enshrined  in  definite  forms  what  they 
saw  of  the  true  and  the  beautiful  for  our  guidance  and  solace." 

And  then  he  would  pause  to  ask  us  how  far  we,  in  our 
turn,  are  preparing  for  our  unknown  heirs  such  blessings  as 
we  have  reaped  from  the  toil  and  struggle  of  our  fathers. 

Here,  for  instance,  in  an  unpublished  sermon,  is  a  noble 
appeal  to  us  to  make  a  grateful  use  of  the  blessings  we  have 
received,  by  leaving  behind  us  something  that  may  help 
those  who  come  after  us : — 

We,  too,  are  ancestors  ;  and  we  are  constrained  to  ask  what  is 
the  inheritance  which  we  are  preparing  for  future  generations  ? 
For  what  will  our  descendants  bless  us  ?  Will  they  be  able  to 
say,  when  they  look  at  the  work  which  we  have  wrought  in  our 
brief  time  of  toil,  at  the  words  which  we  have  coined  or  brought 
into  currency,  at  the  spirit  which  we  have  cherished  :  "  They 
gave  us  of  their  best — their  best  in  execution  and  their  best  in 
thought ;  they  embodied  splendid  truths  in  simple  forms  and 
made  them  accessible  to  all ;  they  kept  down  the  hasty  and 
tumultuous  passions  which  an  age  of  change  is  too  apt  to 
engender  :  thus  they  have  made  sacrifice  easier  for  us  ;  they  have 
made  wisdom  more  prevailing  ;  they  have  made  holiness  more 
supreme  ;  and  for  all  this,  and  for  the  innumerable  pains  of  which 
we  know  not,  we  bless  their  memory." 

And  finally,  in  answer  to  the  question,  he  sets  before  us  a 
terrible  possibility  for  our  warning : — 

Or  will  the  voice  of  blessing  be  silent  ?  Will  they  say,  as 
they  look  on  what  we  have  done  :  "  That  crumbling  heap,  that 

356          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

desolate  iron  furnace,  tells  of  work  performed  only  for  the 
moment,  which  has  cumbered  the  earth  with  ruins  ;  those  coarse 
and  mean  phrases  which  have  corrupted  our  language,  tell  of 
men  who  had  no  reverence  and  no  dignity ;  that  class 
antagonism  which  torments  us,  tells  of  the  selfishness  of  our 
fathers,  who,  when  there  was  yet  time,  failed  to  bind  man  to 
man  as  fellow-labourers  in  the  cause  of  God." 

For  we  must  remember,  there  is  a  harvest  of  sorrow  and 
desolation,  a  harvest  of  the  whirlwind  and  the  storm,  such  as  has 
been  once  and  again  sown  and  reaped  in  the  world's  history — 
children  helplessly  gathering  the  fruits  of  their  parents'  sins. 
And  they  have  not  read  the  prophets  well  who  persuade  them 
selves  that  they  can  do  their  work  for  God  without  looking  to 
the  future  which  they  are  preparing  for  the  earth. 

Enough  has  been  quoted  to  show  how  earnest  and 
untiring  was  Dr.  Westcott  in  urging  those  around  him  to 
appreciate  the  labours  of  their  spiritual  ancestors.  It  would, 
however,  be  a  mistake  to  suppose,  although  towards  our  fore 
fathers  he  was  indeed  "  chivalry  incarnate,"  that  he  intended 
to  encourage  the  revival  of  a  form  of  spiritual  life  which  be 
longs  to  the  past.  On  the  contrary,  he  says : — 

We  must  use  our  examples,  not  as  copies  but  as  stimulants 
to  exertion.  .  .  .  We  want  the  spirit,  but  not  the  form  of  the 

The  teacher  of  to-day  must  be  ready  to  bring  out  of  his 
treasury  things  new  as  well  as  old  :  he  must  never  be  weary  of 
translating  into  the  current  idiom  the  thought  which  his  ancestors 
have  mastered,  and  never  backward  to  welcome  the  first  voices  of 
later  wisdom. 

And  he  goes  on  to  say : — 

There  may  be  times  when  hermit  isolation  becomes  a  duty, 
as  it  may  be  a  duty  to  cut  off  the  right  hand  or  to  pluck  out  the 
right  eye,  but  it  exhibits  a  mutilation,  not  an  ideal  of  life.  .  .  . 
The  work  of  the  study  must  seldom,  if  ever,  be  sundered  from 
the  work  of  the  world. 

Dr.  Westcott's  estimate  of  family  life  was  very  high.  It 
was  a  favourite  thought  with  him  that  the  first  converts  in 
Europe  were  families.  "  Lydia  and  her  household,"  "the 

vii  A   MINSTER   MEMORY  357 

jailor  and  all  his."  He  constantly  dwelt  on  the  gain  to  all 
from  coming  in  contact  with  the  fresh  minds  of  children. 
Those  who  visited  him  in  his  study  at  the  Divinity  School  at 
Cambridge  will  recall  how,  among  pictures  of  divines  famed 
for  learning  and  piety,  there  hung  the  baby  face  and  baby 
figure  of  Millais'  "  Cherry  Ripe." 

It  would  be  pleasant  indeed  to  follow  him  into  that  "  long 
dark  study  in  the  old  home  down  the  lane,"  and  note  his 
ways  with  his  own  children,  but  this  will  be  dwelt  upon  by 
another  with  more  right  and  ability  to  speak  upon  the 

It  will  be  more  suitable  here  perhaps  to  say  a  few  words 
on  Dr.  Westcott  as  Canon  in  Residence  at  the  Cathedral. 
In  summer  time  Peterborough  is  rather  like  the  land  where 
'tis  always  afternoon,  and  not  a  few  of  its  inhabitants  are 
inclined  then  to  ask,  "Why  should  life  all  labour  be  ?" 

So  far  the  coming  of  Dr.  Westcott  might  seem  ill-timed  ; 
and  yet  he  was  welcomed  always  as  a  source  of  fresh  life  by 
the  Cathedral  staff.  The  precentor  was  stimulated  in  choos 
ing  music  for  the  services.  The  organist  knew  that  every 
improvement  in  rendering  it  would  at  once  be  noted.  The 
lay  clerks  and  choristers  felt  certain  of  his  lively  interest  in 
the  singing ;  while  each  and  all  were  assured  that  every  effort 
would  be  appreciated,  and  every  gift,  great  or  small,  gladly 
recognised,  by  one  who  had  always  a  keen  eye  for  the  merits 
of  those  around  him.  There  would  be,  perhaps,  a  little 
murmuring  here  and  there  among  the  older  members  of  the 
Choir  at  improvements  suggested;  as,  for  instance,  in  the 
chanting  of  the  Psalms.  Indeed,  when  the  now  famous 
Paragraph  Psalter  was  first  introduced,  a  highly  conservative 
lay  clerk  was  somewhat  indignant  at  the  interference  of  a 
Canon  in  the  Cathedral  music. 

Once  only  could  the  veteran   remember,  and  that  in  a 

far-off  past,  a  member  of  the  Chapter  venturing  to  propose 

any  alteration  in  the  rendering  of  the  Psalms,  and  that  was  a 

.suggestion  to  shorten  the  service  by  "  substituting  single  for 

double  chants." 

Moreover,  in  the  good  old  times,  when  conviviality  invari 
ably  accompanied  the  practice  of  the  music,  the  attendance 

358          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

of  a  Canon  was  a  thing  not  to  be  thought  of ;  and  when  Dr. 
Westcott  was  present,  and  suggested  the  use  of  a  triple  chant 
in  the  Psalm,  the  senior  member  of  the  Choir  complained  of 
the  introduction  of  "a  kind  of  three-cornered  thing"  into 
the  Cathedral  music. 

In  a  short  time,  however,  all  became  reconciled  to  the 
change,  and  it  was  fully  recognised  as  a  manifest  improve 
ment.  Thus  the  Paragraph  Psalter  came  to  be  appreciated 
not  only  in  Peterborough  itself,  but  also  by  visitors  to  the 
Cathedral.  To  explain  the  object  of  this  change  in  the 
chanting  it  may  be  well  to  quote  from  the  preface : — 

It  is  evident,  upon  the  least  reflection,  that  no  one  uniform 
method  of  chanting  can  be  applicable  to  the  whole  Psalter. 
Sometimes  the  verses  are  separately  complete  ;  sometimes  they 
are  arranged  in  couplets,  sometimes  in  triplets  ;  sometimes  they 
are  grouped  in  unequal  but  corresponding  masses.  In  most 
cases  the  verses  consist  of  two  members,  but  not  unfrequently 
they  consist  of  three  or  four.  If,  therefore,  the  Psalms  are 
sung  antiphonally  on  one  method  in  single  verses,  or  in  pairs 
of  verses,  the  sense  must  constantly  be  sacrificed ;  and  the  music, 
instead  of  illuminating  the  thought,  will  fatally  obscure  it. 

Thus,  for  example,  the  second  Psalm  consists  of  four  triplets, 
which  offer  remarkable  internal  correspondence.  The  teaching 
of  the  Psalm  is  wholly  destroyed  if  the  separate  unity  of  these 
four  stanzas  is  not  clearly  marked  in  chanting. 

I  have,  therefore,  striven,  after  long  and  repeated  study,  to  mark 
the  main  divisions  of  the  Psalms,  and  by  very  brief  marginal 
notes  to  characterise  them. 

In  our  Cathedrals  and  great  Churches  the  Psalms  are  the 
centre  of  the  service.  They  furnish  splendid  opportuuities  for 
the  consecration  of  the  highest  gifts  of  musical  genius  and 
musical  skill  ;  and  no  nobler  task  can  be  given  to  the  religious 
artist  than  to  interpret  them  in  a  universal  language. 

Another  monument  of  Dr.  Westcott's  tenure  of  the 
office  of  Canon  Residentiary  at  Peterborough  is  the  Cathedral 
Voluntary  Choir,  which  was  formed  to  supplement,  and 
occasionally  combine  with,  the  regular  Cathedral  Choir.  To 

viz  A  MINSTER  MEMORY  359 

this  innovation  there  was  at  first  some  opposition,  opponents 
pleading  that  the  Cathedral's  influence  would  suffer  from  the 
introduction  of  an  incongruous  element.  The  Canon,  how 
ever,  was  not  deterred  from  carrying  out  what  he  was 
persuaded  would  make  the  Cathedral  more  in  touch  with 
the  city. 

The  ideal  leader  of  the  day  has  been  defined  as  "  a 
mystic  who  can  be  practical,"  and  surely  Dr.  Westcott 
most  completely  represented  this  ideal,  for,  while  careful  to 
preserve  all  that  was  worth  preserving,  and  eager  to  restore 
what  the  old  Minster  may  have  suffered  from  the  ravages  of 
time,  or  to  clear  away  the  disfigurements  of  our  more  im 
mediate  forefathers,  in  whose  days  the  history  of  Cathedrals 
has  been  truly  described  as  "  a  satirical  record  of  neglect 
and  decay,"  he  was  by  no  means  content  with  merely 
preserving  or  restoring  what  our  ancestors  have  bequeathed 
to  us,  for,  as  he  writes,  "  that  which  is  stationary  is  dead." 

Thus,  while  "guarding  tenderly  the  old,"  he  was  keen  to 
discover  means  for  developing  any  latent  capacity  for  use 
fulness  in  Cathedral  life,  although  in  such  a  sphere  it  is 
difficult  indeed  for  one  official  to  move  without  interfering 
with  the  rights  of  others. 

Nothing  daunted  by  impediments,  Dr.  Westcott  set  to 
work,  and  by  his  energy  and  tact  accomplished  very  success 
fully  the  task  he  had  undertaken.  The  Secretary  of  the 
Voluntary  Choir  writes :  "  He  visited  the  shops  in  the  city 
and  invited  men  to  join.  The  Choir  used  to  meet  for 
practice  in  the  hall  of  his  house,  and  soon  numbered  fifty 
members,  besides  the  boys  that  joined."  This  beginning 
was  made  some  thirty  years  ago,  and  since  that  time  the 
special  evening  service  has  continued  to  be  highly  appreciated 
by  a  large  congregation  every  Sunday  evening. 

Dr.  Westcott's  efforts  were  by  no  means  confined  to 
improving  and  developing  all  that  he  found  possible  in  the 
Cathedral  itself.  He  was  ever  ready  and  anxious  to  help 
Jforward  every  form  of  good  work  attempted  in  the  city.  In 
the  Choral  Society,  which  sprung  indirectly  from  the 
Voluntary  Cathedral  Choir,  he  took  great  interest,  especially 
as  the  conductor  was  the  precentor  of  the  Cathedral.  In 

360          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

addressing  the  society,  he  takes  pain  to  assure  them  that  in 
having  a  clergyman  as  their  leader  they  are  adopting  what  is, 
to  his  mind,  a  principle  of  the  first  importance,  for  they  are 
thus  recognising  that  "the  guidance  and  study  of  art,  and 
especially  of  music,  may  fairly  be  committed  to  those  to 
whom  the  highest  spiritual  education  is  entrusted." 

This  indeed  is  but  one  illustration  of  a  view  which  he 
was  always  endeavouring  to  set  forth  as  to  the  office  of  a 
clergyman,  who,  as  he  says,  "  should  cherish  the  widest 
sympathies,  the  most  varied  interests.  .  .  .  Our  greatest 
privilege  is  not  to  suppress  what  belongs  to  sense,  but  to 
see  all  transfigured ;  not  to  regard  time  as  a  tedious 
parenthesis,  but  as  the  veil  of  eternity,  half- hiding,  half- 
revealing  what  is  for  ever  •  not  to  divert  the  interest  of 
men  from  that  which  they  have  to  do,  but  to  invest  every 
fragment  of  work  with  a  potential  divinity.  .  .  .  The  mean 
ing  of  the  phrase  '  spiritual  power '  has  been  unduly  narrowed 
in  these  later  times." 

It  must  not,  however,  be  imagined  that  Dr.  Westcott,  in 
dealing  with  candidates  for  Holy  Orders,  allowed  them  to 
think  that  he  assigned  more  than  a  secondary  place  to  any 
other  interest.  Some  words  of  his  in  a  letter  on  this  subject 
are  too  important  to  be  omitted.  He  writes  to  a  friend  inter 
ested  in  one  who  was  contemplating  being  ordained,  thus : — 

I  had  a  conversation  with  Mr.  yesterday  evening.  I 

could  not  make  out  that  he  had  any  distinct  personal  inclination 
towards  Holy  Orders  apart  from  filial  duty.  On  the  other  hand, 
he  showed  passionate  devotion  to  music.  A  new  expression 
came  over  his  countenance  when  he  spoke  of  it. 

I  endeavoured  to  put  two  lines  of  thought  before  him.  I  tried 
to  show,  what  I  feel  deeply,  that  the  gift  of  music  can  be  conse 
crated  to  the  service  of  Holy  Orders  if  it  is  most  definitely 
secondary  and  subservient,  just  as  a  gift  of  teaching  or  of  litera 
ture.  And,  again,  I  said  what  I  think  is  no  less  true,  that  now, 
when  music  makes  and  indicates  the  highest  claims,  there  is  scope 
for  it  as  a  profession  for  noble  Christian  service.  I  asked  him, 
therefore,  to  think  over  the  matter  and  speak  to  me  again. 

Nor  did  Dr.  Westcott's  love  of  music  prevent  his  warning 
young  people  that  what  he  so  highly  valued  as  emphatically 

vii  A   MINSTER   MEMORY  361 

"  the    social    art "   had    power    to    enervate    as    well    as    to 

In  speaking  of  the  Drama  he  is  more  reticent.  Thus  he 
writes  in  a  letter  to  a  friend : — 

Of  the  stage  I  have  never  been  able  to  make  a  clear  theory. 
No  problem  seems  to  me  more  beset  with  difficulties.  These 
ought  to  stir  some  teacher  to  effort.  But  from  early  youth  I 
always  felt  that  to  me  this  question  would  be  one  to  be  quickly 
set  aside. 

His  friend  and  predecessor  in  the  see  of  Durham,  Dr. 
Lightfoot,  in  a  celebrated  sermon  on  the  Drama,  laments  its 
having  fallen  from  its  high  estate,  causing  the  clergy  to  hold 
aloof  from  its  representations ;  and  he  urges  his  hearers  not 
only  to  reprove  what  is  evil,  but  to  promote  whatever  is 
high  and  pure  and  lovely,  "  remembering  that  the  emotions 
acted  on  by  the  Drama  are  from  God  and  of  God." 

So  far  Dr.  Westcott's  wish  was  fulfilled  in  the  subject's 
being  taken  up  by  one  well  qualified  to  judge.  No  one  can 
doubt,  however,  that  had  the  question  been  brought  before 
him  he  would  himself,  as  indeed  he  had  said,  have  felt  bound 
to  go  thoroughly  into  it.  But  the  occasion  never  occurred, 
and  so  we  are,  alas  !  poorer  for  the  lack  of  his  opinion. 

Such  reticence,  indeed,  was  characteristic  of  Dr.  Westcott. 
This  question  of  the  Drama  is  only  one  of  many  instances 
that  might  be  referred  to,  where  he  is  silent  simply  because 
there  seemed  to  be  no  call  upon  him  to  speak. 

And  his  silence  is  the  more  significant,  because  he  strongly 
insisted  always  upon  the  duty  of  imparting  to  others  what  has 
been  helpful  to  ourselves,  as  a  few  sentences  from  his  sermons 
will  at  once  prove  : — 

It  is  treason  to  keep  to  ourselves  the  least  truth  with  which  we 
have  been  entrusted. 

There  may  be  a  joy  of  private  possession  in  other  things,  but 
the  value  of  spiritual  truth — the  value  of  truth  to  the  possessor — 
is  increased  by  diffusion.  It  grows  by  scattering.  To  hold  it 
back  from  others  is  to  cast  doubt  on  its  reality. 

In  a  sermon  preached  at  the  University  of  Cambridge  he 
says : — 

362          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

He  who  has  ascertained  some  fact  in  history,  some  little  detail 
which  may  affect  remotely  men's  health  or  wellbeing,  cannot  rest 
till  he  has  made  others  share  his  discovery.  Nowhere,  I  think, 
does  the  voice  of  humanity  speak  more  plainly  or  more  nobly  than 
in  that  generous  and  unwritten  law  by  which  the  physician  who 
has  been  allowed  to  find  some  remedy  for  disease  is  held  to  have 
found  it  not  as  a  means  for  aggrandisement,  but  as  a  free  blessing 
for  all. 

So  it  is  in  regard  to  the  health  of  the  body ;  and  shall  it  be 
otherwise  in  regard  to  the  soul  ?  Faith  indeed  to  be  real  must 
declare  itself.  Its  power  to  stay  corruption  must  be  exercised 
whenever  it  finds  entrance.  Its  power  to  illuminate  must  vindicate 
itself  by  scattering  darkness. 

Dr.  Westcott  finds  a  noble  example  of  this  readiness  to 
impart  a  conviction  of  hope,  with  all  the  power  and  vividness 
which  a  poet  can  command,  in  the  writings  of  Robert  Brown 
ing,  who  cannot  be  accused  of  "an  idle  optimism."  In  a 
paper  read  before  the  Browning  Society  at  Cambridge  he 
says : — 

Browning  has  dared  to  look  on  the  darkest  and  meanest  forms 
of  action  and  passion,  from  which  we  commonly  and  rightly  turn 
our  eyes,  and  he  has  brought  back  for  us  from  this  universal 
survey  a  conviction  of  hope. 

He  has  laid  bare  what  there  is  in  man  of  sordid,  selfish, 
impure,  corrupt,  brutish,  and  he  proclaims,  in  spite  of  every 
disappointment  and  every  wound,  that  he  still  finds  a  spiritual 
power  without  him,  which  restores  assurance  as  to  the  destiny  of 

In  Browning  he  finds,  indeed,  a  kindred  spirit.  The  poet 
and  the  Regius  Professor  are  one  in  their  conviction  that 
"  Humanity  is  not  a  splendid  ruin  deserted  by  the  great  king 
who  once  dwelt  within  its  shrine,  but  a  living  body,  racked, 
maimed,  diseased,  it  may  be,  but  stirred  by  noble  thoughts 
which  cannot  for  ever  be  in  vain." 

Another  great  teacher  of  our  time  has  taught  us  that 
"despair  is  the  only  utter  perdition."  And  so,  even  more 
fully  perhaps,  to  some  minds,  has  Dr.  Westcott  identified 
himself  with  "hope  for  the  individual,  hope  for  the  race." 

He  loved  to  call  the  Bible  "the  charter  of  hope,"  and  was 

vii  A  MINSTER  MEMORY  363 

sure  that  in  time  to  come,  if  not  now,  there  would  be  seen  in 
the  teaching  of  Holy  Scripture  "truths  which  when  fully 
shown  are  able  to  bind  class  to  class  and  nation  to  nation, 
and  to  present  all  created  things  in  one  supreme  unity." 

With  this  hope,  triumphing  over  all  obstacles,  making 
indeed  "  each  stumbling-block  a  stepping-stone,"  Dr.  Westcott 
threw  himself  heartily  into  every  effort  which  demanded  self- 
sacrifice  for  the  common  good.  Every  gift  of  fortune  and 
place  and  character  he  held  to  be  a  trust  for  the  general 
welfare.  Teachers  he  was  ever  urging  "not  to  fit  their 
scholars  to  be  faultless  fragments  in  a  perfect  machine,  but 
thoughtful,  struggling  citizens  in  a  present  kingdom  of  God." 
He  told  schoolmasters  that  with  them,  more  than  with  the 
clergy,  rests  the  shaping  of  that  generation  which  will  decide, 
in  a  large  degree,  what  the  England  of  the  future  will  be. 
"  They  must  teach  their  pupils  that  toil  is  not,  as  it  used  to 
be  to  Greek  ears,  synonymous  with  wretchedness  or  vice  " ; 
and  he  adds,  "There  can  be,  as  far  as  I  can  see,  no  stable 
peace  till  it  can  be  openly  shown  on  a  large  scale  that  the  toiler 
with  slender  means  may  be  rich  in  all  that  makes  life  worth 
living,  filled  with  the  joy  of  devotion  to  the  good,  and  the 
true,  and  the  beautiful,  and  the  holy." 

In  attempting  to  recall  impressions  of  Dr.  Westcott  when 
at  Peterborough,  although  his  own  disposition  was  to  follow 
out  consistently  what  he  preached  to  his  brother  clergy  as  to 
making  a  love  of  art  secondary  and  subservient,  it  is  hardly 
possible  not  to  speak  of  his  artistic  gifts.  His  reed -pen 
sketches  of  the  monastic  ruins  have  been  seen  probably  only 
by  a  few  even  of  his  friends,  and  not  many  perhaps  realised 
his  fine  appreciation  of  works  of  art.  Yet  those  who  knew 
him  best  would  soon  discover  the  value  he  set  on  the  study 
of  art,  as  a  few  sentences  from  an  address  to  art  students  will 
be  sufficient  to  show  : — 

The  art  which  enlarges  our  powers,  likewise  invigorates  and 
refines.  I  do  not  know  of  anything  more  instructive  than  to  go 
with  an  artist  to  see  a  sunset.  You  see  very  brilliant  colours,  but 
the  artist  will  point  out  to  you  that  there  is  a  subtle  harmony 
here,  the  shadow  of  a  cloud  there,  that  shadows  are  not  black, 
but  composed  of  variable  hues,  and  so  on,  until  the  sunset  becomes 

364          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

a  thing  of  life.  This  power  of  refined  observation  comes  from 
the  study  of  his  art.  In  this  way  we  get  breadth,  vigour,  and 
delicacy  by  the  study  of  art. 

The  time  came  when  Dr.  Westcott  was  invited  to  fill  a 
place  in  another  sphere.  A  canonry  at  Westminster  became 
vacant,  and  Mr.  Gladstone  offered  the  stall  to  him.  Not 
without  a  pang  did  he  leave  Peterborough,  and  not  without 
genuine  sorrow  did  clergy  and  friends  in  general  bid  him 

In  reply  to  a  touching  address 1  from  the  members  of  the 
Cathedral  Voluntary  Choir,  he  writes  : — 

Dear  Friends — Let  me  beg  you  to  receive  my  heartfelt  thanks 
for  your  address,  which  is  now  hanging  before  me  in  my  study 
under  a  drawing  of  the  Cathedral.  No  testimonial  could  have 
given  me  more  pleasure.  It  is  the  witness  that  one  part  of  the 
Cathedral  life  which  I  had  the  happiness  to  see  in  its  beginning 
is  full  of  vigorous  energy  and  promise. 

The  Voluntary  Choir  was  necessarily  an  object  of  my  liveliest 
interest  as  long  as  I  was  permitted  to  work  at  Peterborough. 

During  my  connexion  with  the  Cathedral  from  first  to  last,  I 
strove,  as  you  know,  to  make  it  a  centre  of  popular  religious  energy 
and  feeling,  an  institution  to  which  every  one  in  the  diocese  might 
naturally  bring  his  offering  of  service,  and  in  which  he  might 
be  sure  to  find  a  welcome,  made  deeper  and  fuller  through  the 
varied  teaching  of  more  than  twelve  hundred  years,  which  is  the 
inheritance  of  its  representatives.  There  are,  indeed,  few  days  in  my 
life  which  I  recall  with  greater  pleasure  than  those  in  which  I  was 
allowed  from  time  to  time  to  meet  in  the  Cathedral  great  gatherings 
of  volunteers,  of  railway  officials,  of  friendly  societies,  of  Sunday 
School  teachers,  of  church  workers,  and  the  like  ;  and  no  words 
or  acts  of  sympathy  have  ever  been  a  greater  encouragement  to 
me  than  those  of  my  fellow-labourers  on  these  occasions. 

For  such  sympathy  is  not  so  much  personal  as  corporate.  It 
is  the  expression  of  that  unselfish  devotion  to  a  common  end  by 
which  societies  live  and  grow. 

I  can  then,  to  judge  from  my  own  experience,  in  acknowledg 
ing  your  kindness,  wish  nothing  better  for  you  than  that  you 

1  The  Peterborough  Voluntary  Choir,  I  would  add,  presented  my  father 
with  another  address,  followed  by  two  pages  of  signatures,  on  his  appoint 
ment  to  Durham. — A.  W. 

vii  A   MINSTER   MEMORY  365 

may  feel  with  ever-increasing  power  the  joy  of  willing  and  united 
service  on  behalf  of  a  great  Foundation. 

This  I  do  wish  with  all  my  heart ;  and  what  may  not  fifty  men 
do  who  have  already  known  what  it  is  to  minister  to  God  ? 

Of  Dr.  Westcott's  new  sphere  as  Canon  of  Westminster 
another  will  speak.  With  his  farewell  to  Peterborough  this 
record  must  end.  In  a  letter  received  from  him  at  the  time 
of  his  departure  he  says  : — 

Westminster  seems  like  a  dream  to  me,  yet  the  conversation 
with  Mr.  Gladstone  was  most  real  and  impressive,  and  I  suppose, 
if  all  be  well,  the  work  will  come.  If  I  had  ever  dared  to  form  a 
wish,  I  think  that  it  would  have  been  that  I  might  have  such  a 
place.  The  Abbey  is  the  epitome  of  all  that  is  greatest  in  the 
fulness  of  English  life. 

When,  at  the  request  of  his  University,  Dr.  Westcott  sat  for 
his  portrait,  the  artist  found  less  difficulty  in  painting  his 
features  than  in  shaping  his  peculiarly  sensitive  fingers.  And 
thus,  too,  for  the  writer  it  is  easier,  by  quotation  from  his 
works,  to  convey  an  idea  of  his  spiritual  and  intellectual  power 
than  to  give  an  impression  of  the  fine  tact  which  was  equally 
characteristic  of  Dr.  Westcott. 

Let  it  suffice,  then,  to  add  only  that  we  who  knew  and 
valued  the  late  Bishop  of  Durham,  when  Canon  of  Peter 
borough,  still  love  to  trace,  in  what  have  since  grown  into 
standard  theological  works,  the  first  thoughts  to  which  with 
reverence  we  listened  in  the  Morning  Chapel  of  the  old 
Minster;  and  that,  above  all  other  recollections  of  Cathedral 
life,  there  must  ever  stand  out  luminously  clear  in  our  remem 
brance  the  form  and  features  of  one  whose  very  presence 
seemed  proof  of  immortality.  Nor  is  it  possible  for  us  ever 
to  read  the  words  of  the  evangelist  St.  John,  on  which  he 
would  comment  with  almost  breathless  veneration,  without 
once  more  picturing  Dr.  Westcott  at  the  lectern  in  the  old 
Norman  pile, — 

He  stood  as  one  transfigured  in  a  gleam 
Of  light  divine,  interpreting  that  Dream 
Where  eyes  of  love  see  Love  o'er  all  supreme. 



IN  1870  the  Regius  Professorship  of  Divinity  at  Cam 
bridge  became  vacant  through  the  resignation  of 
Professor  Jeremie,  Dean  of  Lincoln.  Dr.  Lightfoot, 
who  had  already  devised  a  scheme  of  his  own  for 
bringing  my  father  to  Cambridge,  strongly  urged  him 
now  to  be  a  candidate  for  the  office.  In  vain  my 
father  protested  that  his  friend  should  allow  himself  to 
be  elected  to  "  a  place  which  was  his  own  by  right," 
and  leave  him  the  chance  of  succeeding  to  the  Hulsean 
Professorship.  Dr.  Lightfoot  was  obdurate,  and  sent 
orders  which  my  father  with  some  misgivings  obeyed. 
And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  one  of  his  dreams  was 
realised.  He  received  a  telegram  from  Cambridge  on 
All  Saint's  Day  telling  him  that  he  had  been  elected 
by  a  large  majority.  To  this  he  replied  :— 

My  dear  Lightfoot — Your  telegram  is,  I  suppose,  correct, 
but  it  all  seems  to  me  like  a  strange  dream,  and  I  can  hardly 
realise  what  I  have  ventured  to  do.  However,  in  such  a 
case,  with  the  prospect  of  such  work,  self  must  be  forgotten. 
I  do  sincerely  trust  that  I  had  no  selfish  aim  in  coming 
forward.  I  only  wish  that  my  other  hopes  were  as  strong  as 


CHAP,  vni  CAMBRIDGE  367 

my  hope  for  Cambridge.  This  last  confidence  is  indeed  that 
which  encourages  me  to  believe  that  by  your  side  I  may  be 
enabled  to  do  something  for  the  cause  of  our  common  Faith. 
Those  who  offer  congratulations,  as  many  kind  friends 
already  do,  hardly  feel  what  the  work  to  come  is.  I  feel  to 
want  sympathy,  prayers,  not  congratulations.  Lately  I  have 
had  to  pick  out  two  words,  they  are  : 


If  to  these  we  add  — 

it  seems  as  if  the  spring  of  strength  were  open. 

The  position  which  I  must  try  to  occupy  I  owe  to  you, 
and  you  will  thus  help  me  to  fill  it.  May  God  give  us  wisdom 
and  courage  and  patience  to  do  His  work.  —  Ever  yours 
gratefully  and  affectionately,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 

A  few  days  later  he  wrote  to  Chancellor  Benson 
from  Cambridge  : 

TRINITY  COLLEGE,  jth  November  1870. 

My  dear  Benson  —  To  read  your  letter  in  Lightfoot's 
rooms  made  its  words  doubly  moving.  It  is  a  great  joy  to  me 
that  my  dearest  friends  all  feel  the  solemnity  of  the  charge 
given  to  me  as  I  feel  it.  At  present  the  sense  of  depression 
is  almost  overwhelming.  It  is  so  hard  not  to  think  of  self. 
However,  the  charge  is  given  and  only  in  one  way  can  it  be 
fulfilled.  Lightfoot  thinks  that  I  should  be  able  to  help  him, 
and  my  faith  in  Cambridge  remains  unshaken.  All  else 
seems  dark,  but  that  is  light  enough  for  the  next  step. 
Surely  the  battle  is  for  us,  if  only  we  believe  it  :  —  TTWS  OVK 
t^ere  TTib-Ttv.  In  a  few  minutes  I  go  with  Lightfoot  to  West 
minster.  More  will  come  of  these  meetings,  I  think,  than 
simply  a  revised  version.  —  Ever  yours  gratefully  and  affec 
tionately,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 

To  Professor  F.  D.  Maurice  he  wrote  :  — 

It  is  quite  impossible  for  me  to  thank  you  in  words  for 
your  letter.  By  humbling  me,  in  the  Christian  sense  of  the 

368          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

word,  it  gives  me  new  strength.  If  an  unbounded  faith  in 
the  reality  of  the  spiritual  work  which  Cambridge  can  do  and 
an  intense  love  for  Cambridge  can  give  any  power,  that  power 
I  think  I  can  claim.  For  the  rest  I  know  my  weakness  too 
well — and  the  extreme  kindness  of  many  friends  makes  me 
know  it  even  better  than  before — to  look  within  for  anything. 
It  has  often  seemed  to  me  that  there  is  a  want  of  concert  in 
noblest  effort  at  Cambridge.  If  the  men  who  wish  to  work 
together  would  have  the  courage  to  appear  as  a-vvaOXovvres, 
I  think  that  great  blessings  would  follow.  Your  prayers  for 
my  work  at  its  beginning  will,  I  am  sure,  follow  it,  if  I  am 
allowed  to  carry  it  on.  No  one  can  know  as  I  do  how  much 
I  need  them. 

To  Mr.  Dairy mple  he  wrote  : — 

PETERBOROUGH,  i*]th  December  1870. 

I  hardly  know  when  I  shall  be  able  to  tell  all  my  friends 
how  deeply  I  feel  their  kindness  and  sympathy.  My  new 
work  is  too  grave  and  solemn  to  admit  of  congratulations, 
but  those  who  wish  me  well  and  know  what  the  charge  is 
will  give  me  something  far  better.  Next  term  I  hope  to 
reside  in  College.  This  seems  to  be  the  only  possible 
arrangement,  and  at  the  beginning  it  may  be  well  to  be 
free  from  society.  I  do  certainly  feel  that  I  can  give  my 
whole  heart  to  the  work :  that  is  something  to  encourage 
me.  .  .  . 

The  following  letter  to  his  wife  tells  of  the  com 
mencement  of  his  Cambridge  work  : — 

CAMBRIDGE,  >]th  February  1871. 

Well — the  first  lecture  is  over,  and  now  that  a  beginning 
is  made  the  way  will  be  clearer.  I  had  a  very  pleasant 
audience  and  an  attentive  one.  Prof.  Selwyn  came  over 
from  Ely  to  be  present.  It  was  very  kind  of  him.  I  hope 
that  I  was  intelligible,  and  henceforth  I  shall  not  try  the 
powers  of  my  hearers  so  much.  It  is  a  great  thing  to  have 



been  allowed  to  begin  the  work.  May  some  good  come  from 
it.  The  time  seems  to  be  very  short,  and  it  is  hard  to  keep 
one's  own  faith  really  alive. 

One  of  the  new  Professor's  first  endeavours  was  to 
secure  a  harmony  of  Divinity  lectures  ;  he  even  hoped 
that  Professor  Maurice  might  see  his  way  to  visibly 
co-operate  with  the  Divinity  Professors,  but  in  this  he 
was  disappointed.  He  wrote  : — 

PETERBOROUGH,  y>th  September  1871. 

My  dear  Professor  Maurice — The  Theological  Professors 
propose  to  issue  a  joint  programme  of  their  lectures  at  the 
beginning  of  the  term,  with  a  view  to  giving  men  a  general 
idea  of  the  public  help  which  they  may  expect  to  receive  in 
this  part  of  their  work.  We  are  anxious  to  make  our  list  as 
complete  as  possible,  and  the  thought  has  occurred  to  us 
that  you  may  have  selected  for  your  subject  some  topic  of 
Christian  Ethics  which  would  fall  within  the  scope  of  the 
plan.  If  it  be  so  we  trust  that  you  will  allow  us  to  include 
this  course  of  yours  in  our  list.  Without  some  such  applica 
tion  of  theology  to  life,  our  scheme  will  be  very  imperfect, 
and  it  will  be  an  inestimable  gain  to  the  students  preparing 
for  Holy  Orders  if  they  can  from  the  first  be  taught  to  feel 
that  Social  Morality  is  one  side  of  the  doctrine  of  the  Church. 
It  may,  of  course,  happen  that  the  subjects  which  you  pro 
pose  to  teach  in  the  next  year  are  special  and  technical  and 
that  you  cannot  render  us  the  service  for  which  I  venture  to 
ask  ;  but  I  am  sure  that  you  will  sympathise  so  far  with  the 
wish  to  give  breadth  to  our  Divinity  course  as  to  pardon  me 
for  preferring  the  request  which  may  perhaps  find  fulfilment 
at  some  later  time  if  not  now. — Believe  me  to  be,  my  dear 
Professor  Maurice,  yours  very  sincerely  and  gratefully, 


From  the  very  first,  too,  he  laboured  to  secure  a  real 
value  for  the   University's  divinity  degrees.      He  was 
not  afraid  to  disappoint  entirely  some  who  sought  the 
VOL.  I  2  B 

370          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

D.D.  degree,  and  submitted  to  some  reproach  on  this 
account.  The  following  letter  to  Archdeacon  Farrar, 
a  very  old  friend  and  sufficiently  renowned  theologian, 
shows  how  scrupulous  he  was  in  this  matter : — 

WESTMINSTER,  2nd  February  1871. 

My  dear  Farrar — Your  note  has  followed  me  to  the 
Revision  sitting.  The  LXX  is,  I  fear,  quite  an  unworked 
field  so  far  as  the  books  of  the  Hebrew  Canon  are  concerned. 
It  can,  I  think,  only  be  used  profitably  with  the  Hebrew  text, 
and  the  problems  then  opened  are  intensely  interesting,  but 
nearly  all  new.  .  .  .  The  Apokrypha  forms  an  excellent 
subject,  and  the  Kurz.  Exeg.  Handb.  by  Grimm  and 
Fritzsche  is  excellent.  You  could  not  take  anything  better 
than  i  Mace,  and  Wisdom. 

I  do  not  know  whether  you  can  take  a  D.D.  at  once 
without  going  through  the  preliminary  stage.  Luard  is  the 
great  authority  on  this  matter.  However,  the  exercises  are 
the  same  for  B.D.  and  D.D.,  a  public  sermon,  which  I  am 
allowed  to  consider  already  preached  in  the  Hulsean  lectures, 
and  a  Latin  thesis.  The  latter  I  wish  to  raise  to  real  worth. 
If  you  can  suggest  some  subject  which  you  wish  to  treat,  I 
shall  be  delighted  to  assign  it  to  you ;  and  I  am  most  anxious 
that  the  work  should  be  of  permanent  value.  We  have  lost 
incredibly  by  treating  these  exercises  as  a  matter  of  form. 

I  write  in  haste  in  a  moment  of  leisure.  May  you  have 
every  blessing  in  your  coming  work. — Ever  yours  most 
sincerely,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 

Professor  V.  H.  Stanton,  who  knew  my  father 
throughout  his  twenty  years'  tenure  of  the  Regius  Pro 
fessorship,  has  kindly  sent  the  following  recollections  : — 

"  It  seems  natural  to  speak  of  him  first  as  he 
appeared  to  myself  and  to  contemporaries  of  my  own, 
from  the  point  of  view  which  we  occupied  when  he 
entered  upon  his  work  here.  Several  of  my  friends 
were  looking  forward,  as  I  was,  to  becoming  candidates 



for  Holy  Orders,  while  others  besides  these  took  a 
genuine  interest  in  Theological  studies.  We  had 
some  general  notion  before  he  came  of  his  attainments, 
and  knew  that  he  had  written  important  books,  though 
I  do  not  remember  that  we  had  any  of  us  read  even 
one  of  them,  unless  it  were  The  Gospel  of  the  Resurrec 
tion.  We  soon  began  to  realise  to  some  extent  what 
additional  strength  he  had  brought  to  the  teaching 
body  in  Cambridge,  and  he  became  an  object  of  the 
same  kind  of  affectionate  reverence  which  we  ourselves 
and  other  generations  of  young  men  before  us  had  for 
some  time  felt  for  Dr.  Lightfoot.  Their  mental  char 
acteristics  were  in  some  respects  very  different ;  but 
the  friendship  between  them  was  known  to  be  of 
such  long  standing  and  so  close,  and  their  main  prin 
ciples  and  aims  were  so  plainly  identical,  that  the 
influence  of  each  was  only  strengthened  by  that  of  the 
other.  We  liked  to  watch  them  together,  and  this  we 
had  many  opportunities  of  doing,  especially  if  we  were 
Trinity  men.  Dr.  Lightfoot's  home  was  in  the  College  ; 
your  father,  also,  though  he  had  his  house  in  Scrope 
Terrace,  had  rooms  in  Neville's  Court  (I.  3,  second 
floor,  middle  of  the  north  side),  where  he  did  much  of 
his  work,  from  the  Lent  term  of  1871  to  the  summer 
of  1879,  after  which  he  made  the  private  room  of  the 
Regius  Professor  at  the  Divinity  School  his  workshop. 
Thus  during  those  early  years  he  passed  a  large  por 
tion  of  his  days  in  our  very  midst ;  and  the  two  friends, 
who  had  planned  their  life's  work  together,  and  who 
were  now  reunited  as  colleagues  in  the  professoriate, 
mjght  constantly  be  seen  walking  side  by  side  in  our 
courts  as  they  left  chapel  or  hall,  and  at  other  times. 
They  were  of  the  small  and  faithful  remnant  who  still 
dined  at  the  fellows'  table  at  4.30  P.M.  In  passing  it 

372          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

may  be  said  that  I  think  it  is  to  be  regretted  that 
they  did  not  dine  at  the  later  hour,  when  they  would 
have  met  the  greater  number  of  the  fellows.  In  the 
case  of  Dr.  Lightfoot  it  did  not  matter  much,  owing  to 
his  long  residence  in  College  and  past  participation  in 
College  work  ;  but  in  Dr.  Westcott's  case  it  would  have 
been  a  gain  if  he  and  the  society  generally  could  have 
become  more  fully  acquainted  through  ordinary  social 

"  For  the  first  few  years  the  subjects  of  his  longer 
courses — delivered  in  the  Arts'  School,  where  the  pro 
fessor  occupied  the  cumbrous  pulpit  which  had  been 
the  throne  of  the  moderator  at  the  keeping  of  Acts — 
were  taken  from  the  earlier  centuries  of  the  History  of 
the  Church.  It  should  be  remembered  that  there  was 
then  no  Dixie  professor,  and  that  far  less  instruction 
in  Divinity  subjects  was  provided  in  the  Colleges  than 
at  present.  He  led  us  back  to  the  original  documents, 
and  dwelt  with  evident  enthusiasm  upon  signal  mani 
festations  of  Christian  life,  and  showed,  too,  how  the 
Church's  Creed  had  been  shaped  in  true  harmony  with 
the  Scriptural  Revelation,  in  spite  of  all  the  human 
passions  which  had  been  displayed  in  the  conflicts 
through  which  the  result  had  been  won.  The  numbers 
attending  his  lectures  were  in  those  days  not  large, 
and  he  occasionally  set  questions,  which  he  required 
those  at  least  who  desired  certificates  of  attendance  to 
answer,  so  as  in  some  degree  to  satisfy  him.  Later  he 
demanded,  only  as  a  proof  of  diligence,  that  men  should 
show  him  their  notes.  It  has  now,  I  may  observe,  for 
some  years  been  the  practice  of  all  the  Cambridge 
Divinity  professors  to  set  a  paper  on  the  subject  of  their 
lectures  at  the  conclusion  of  each  course,  which  must 
be  passed  in  order  that  a  certificate  may  be  obtained. 

vni  CAMBRIDGE  373 

"  Many,  however,  will  look  back  with  most  gratitude 
to  his  Monday  evening  lectures  on  the  Gospel  of  St. 
John,  and  afterwards  on  St.  John's  Epistles,  which  were 
for  a  long  time  given  in  his  own  rooms,  though  eventu 
ally  he  had  to  remove  to  a  lecture-room.  Here  those 
students  came  who  were  most  anxious  to  learn,  includ 
ing  some  who  were  not  making  Theology  a  principal 
subject  of  study,  and  they  acquired  a  new  sense  of  the 
depths  of  truth  contained  in  '  the  spiritual  Gospel.' 

"In  looking  over  old  lists  of  the  subjects  of  Pro 
fessors'  lectures,  I  had  noticed  that  from  1874  to  1879, 
in  place  of  a  portion  of  Church  History,  *  the  Study  of 
Christian  Doctrine,'  or  some  similar  title  commonly 
appears  opposite  the  Regius  Professor's  name  ;  while 
in  and  after  the  latter  year  he  usually  took  a  book,  or 
selected  passages,  of  the  New  Testament  as  the  sub 
ject  of  his  course  for  certificates,  and  Christian  Doctrine 
in  his  weekly  class.  The  reason  for  the  last  change  is 
probably  to  be  found  in  the  removal  to  Durham  of  Dr. 
Lightfoot,  who  had  almost  invariably  lectured  on  the 
New  Testament." 

My  father's  earliest  lectures,  it  has  been  remarked, 
were  on  Church  History,  being  read  from  a  fully 
written  manuscript,  which  still  survives.  It  had  been 
one  of  his  dreams  to  accomplish  a  work  on  Christian 
Doctrine,  to  which  the  external  history  of  the  Church 
would  have  been  contributory.  For  years  his  study 
was  adorned  with  a  long  row  of  Stone's  boxes,  each  of 
which  was  labelled  C,  D,  and  contained  part  of  what 
we  children  understood  was  to  be  the  great  work  of  his 
life.  Some  of  his  Monday  evening  lectures  in  the 
library  of  the  Divinity  School  were  on  this  subject, 
and  parts  of  them  have  been  published  in  T/ie  Gospel 

374          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

of  Life.     In  a  note  to  the   preface   of  that  book   he 
says  : — 

It  was  my  intention  to  have  added  notes  on  the  Modes 
and  Epochs  of  Revelation,  on  the  characteristics  of  Judaism, 
on  the  Sacred  books  of  prae-Christian  religions,  and  on  the 
Historical  Development  of  Christian  Doctrine,  for  which  I 
collected  materials ;  but  it  is  hardly  likely  now  that  I  shall  be 
able  to  bring  the  materials  into  a  proper  shape. 

That  is  all  he  says  when  compelled  to  abandon 
hope  of  completing  his  magnum  opus. 

The  attendance  at  his  lectures  grew  steadily  for 
years,  receiving  a  great  accession  when  Professor  Light- 
foot  was  taken  to  Durham,  until  it  averaged  about  three 
hundred.  Before  commencing  his  lectures  the  Pro 
fessor  would  repeat  a  collect,  and  few  will  be  able  to 
forget  the  earnestness  of  his  prayer  on  those  occasions. 
Then  before  entering  upon  his  exposition  of  a  verse  or 
two  of  St.  John,  or  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  he 
would  say  a  few  words  on  passages  selected  for  re- 
translation  into  Greek,  and  so  convey,  even  to  the  most 
careless,  some  idea  of  the  power  of  the  original. 

To  earnest  students  his  less  largely  attended 
lectures  were,  I  think,  more  enjoyable.  I  can  re 
member  how,  sometimes  trusting  to  a  friend  who  ex 
celled  at  taking  notes,  I  could  not  resist  the  tempta 
tion  to  cease  writing  and  give  myself  over  to  the 
delight  of  simple  listening.  The  effect  of  the  words  as 
one  can  read  them  now  is  incomparably  less  than  their 
effect  as  uttered.  What  that  effect  on  some  occasions 
was,  another 1  has  described  : — 

As    in    closing  words    of   almost  whispering  earnestness, 
tense  with  spiritual  emotion   and  vibrating  with  prophetic 
hope,  he  tried  to  sum  up  the  collective  message  of  all  the 
1  The  Rev.  G.  H.  Kendall. 



fragmentary  efforts,  by  which  TroA/u/xepws  /ecu  7roA,irr/>o7r<os  "  in 
many  parts  and  many  modes "  men  had  groped  their  way 
towards  self-realisation  and  truth,  I  remember  how  every  pen 
dropped,  and  breath  was  hushed,  and  a  pin-fall  would  have 
sounded,  as  we  listened  spell -bound  to  a  peroration  that 
passed  into  a  Confession  and  a  prayer. 

Professor  Stanton  resumes  : — 

"  I  must  now  turn  to  Dr.  Westcott's  attitude  towards, 
and  part  in,  matters  of  University  policy,  legislation, 
and  administration.  He  commenced  his  work  as  pro 
fessor  at  one  of  the  chief  epochs  in  the  history  of  the 
relations  of  the  University  to  the  Church  of  England. 
In  the  Parliamentary  session  of  1871,  a  bill  was 
passed  into  law  whereby  religious  tests,  already 
abolished  in  regard  to  all  degrees  except  those  in 
Divinity,  ceased  to  be  imposed  as  a  condition  of  ad 
mission  to  a  fellowship.  Colleges  were  at  the  same 
time  required  to  make  provision  for  the  religious 
instruction  of  members  of  the  Established  Church,  and 
for  the  maintenance  of  worship  in  their  chapels  as 
before,  in  accordance  with  its  principles  and  forms ; 
but  there  ceased  to  be  any  guarantee  that  the 
governing  bodies,  or  the  teaching  staff  in  general, 
would  consist  of  Churchmen.  I  do  not  know  how 
Dr.  Westcott  regarded  this  measure  before  it  was 
passed,  though  I  imagine  that  he  acknowledged  its 
necessity.  Certainly,  however,  he  faced  the  new  state 
of  things  with  courage  and  hopefulness.  Of  this  there 
could  not  be  better  evidence  than  that  afforded  by  the 
little  volume  entitled  The  Religious  Office  of  the  Uni 
versities^-  containing  three  sermons  preached  before 

1  To  A.  MACMILLAN,  ESQ. 

PETERBOROUGH,  au1/  December  1872. 

I  have  been  told  that  I  must  publish  two  sermons  which  I  preached 
before  the  University  at  the  beginning  of  this  month.    They  were  on  some 

376          LIFE   OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

the  University  in  the  Advent  of  1872,  two  papers 
read  at  Church  Congresses,  and  one  at  an  Ely  Diocesan 
Conference.  But  this  was  also  a  time  of  much  activity 
in  the  University  itself,  and  not  least  so  in  regard  to 
the  introduction  of  new  regulations  affecting  Theological 
studies.  In  1869  the  Theological  Board  reported  that, 
in  consequence  of  the  recent  institution  of  a  Pass 
Examination  in  Theology  for  the  B.A.  degree,  the 
position  of  the  Theological  Examination,  commonly 
called  the  Voluntary,  which  Cambridge  candidates  for 
Holy  Orders  were  required  by  the  Bishops  to  pass,  had 
been  materially  affected ;  and  a  Syndicate  was  ap 
pointed  to  consider  the  whole  question  of  the  Theo 
logical  examinations  of  the  University,  and  the  regula 
tions  affecting  them.  I  find  that  Dr.  Westcottwas  a  mem 
ber  of  the  former  body,  probably  as  an  examiner,  when 
it  made  the  above-mentioned  report ;  and  that,  although 
not  a  member  of  the  Syndicate  at  its  commencement, 
he  was  added  to  it  after  he  was  elected  Regius  Pro 
fessor,  some  little  time  before  it  made  its  first  report. 
It  first  dealt  with  Divinity  degrees,  and  framed  the 
regulations  which  are  still  in  force.  Dr.  Westcott,  as 
Regius  Professor,  had  the  principal  share  in  carrying 
them  into  effect,  and  in  gradually  raising  the  standard 
of  attainment  insisted  on.  The  same  Syndicate  pre 
pared  the  scheme  for  the  Theological  Tripos  Examina 
tion,  the  chief  features  of  which  still  remain  unaltered. 
The  first  was  held  in  1874." 

The  circumstances,  as  described   above  by  Professor 

points  of  the  relation  of  the  University  to  religious  life  at  home  and 
abroad.  To  publish  single  sermons  is  a  luxury  which  I  can  hardly  indulge 
in ;  but  perhaps  these  two  sermons,  with  the  three  papers  at  Nottingham, 
Cambridge,  and  Leeds,  which  all  converge  on  the  same  points,  might 
make  a  tiny  volume  which  would  pay  its  cost.  What  do  you  think  ?  I 
will  send  you  the  sermons  if  you  like.  The  papers  are  in  the  Reports  of 
the  Congresses,  and  you  may  have  seen  them. 

vin  CAMBRIDGE  377 

Stanton,  combined,  to  quote  my  father's  own  words, 
"  to  suggest  the  present  time  as  especially  opportune 
for  the  establishment  of  a  general  Theological  Exam 
ination,  which  shall  be  conducted  by  the  Divinity 
Professors  and  members  of  the  Theological  Faculty 
in  co-operation  with  the  Bishops." 

The  establishment  of  the  Preliminary  Examination 
of  candidates  for  Holy  Orders  thus  foreshadowed  was 
a  matter  which  cost  the  Regius  Professor  much  labour 
and  anxiety.  His  anxious  endeavour  was  to  raise  the 
level  of  Theological  attainments,  and  to  secure,  as  far 
as  could  be,  a  uniform  standard  in  the  various 
dioceses.  At  the  same  time  it  was  hoped  that  the 
more  solid  part  of  the  examination  of  candidates  for 
ordination  would  thus  be  removed  from  the  few  days 
immediately  preceding  ordination,  so  that  a  more 
devotional  character  might  be  given  to  the  Ember 

As  early  as  1871  the  scheme  supported  by  his 
Cambridge  colleagues  was  already  taking  shape  ;  but 
it  was  a  harder  task  to  win  the  countenance  of  the 
Bishops.  The  following  letters  to  Professor  Lightfoot 
show  what  efforts  were  being  made  to  that  end  : — 


PETERBOROUGH,  i$th  September  1871. 

I  send  you  a  rough  draft  of  a  letter  to  the  Bishops.  There 
are  evidently  great  difficulties  before  us,  but  it  seems  to  be  the 
last  chance  of  keeping  the  University  in  living  contact  with 
the  clergy. 

My  Cathedral  paper  was  finished  at  Hunstanton,  where  I 
stayed  for  a  week,  but  a  solitary  holiday  is  a  little  dreary,  and 
so  I  came  home  again.  There  is  the  Nottingham  paper  still 

378          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

hanging  over  me,  and  it  is  very  hard  to  keep  in  good  heart 
at  Peterborough.  The  shades  of  the  Four  Councils  already 
darken  most  things. — Ever  yours,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 

PETERBOROUGH,  i&th  September  1871. 

.  .  I  have  corrected  the  letter  according  to  your  sugges 
tions,  and  when  I  get  a  proof  will  send  it  to  you  again,  as 
well  as  to  Selwyn  and  Swainson,  for  further  suggestions.  There 
are  difficulties  in  the  way  of  the  Bishops,  I  foresee,  but  unless 
they  will  promise  something  I  do  not  see  that  we  can  under 
take  the  Examination.  Yet  with  care  the  Examination  might 
be  made  a  very  valuable  instrument  of  training. 

Last  week  the  history  of  the  Council  of  Constantinople 
fairly  crushed  me.  I  had  never  gone  into  it  before.  Bad  as 
the  worst  debate  in  Convocation  is,  there  has  been  something 
worse. — Ever  yours,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 

In  the  same  year  he  wrote  to  Hort,  urging  him  to 
accept  an  Examining  Chaplaincy  to  the  Bishop  of  Ely, 
hoping  thus  to  secure  his  active  assistance  in  forward 
ing  the  scheme  : — 

TRINITY  COLLEGE,  'jth  November  1871. 

I  fear  that  I  cannot  be  quite  unbiassed  in  giving  my 
opinion.  The  importance  of  the  office  in  the  present  crisis 
of  things  seems  to  be  so  great,  and  the  possibility  of  salutary 
influence  at  Cambridge  so  hopeful,  that  I  cannot  admit  your 
arguments  for  doubting.  It  seems  to  me  to  be  quite  evident 
that  some  great  change  must  be  made  before  long  in  the 
Examination  for  Holy  Orders.  Thus  there  is  the  greater 
need  of  getting  a  firm  nucleus  for  a  central  body  which  may 
be  ready  to  take  part  of  the  charge.  If  our  supplementary 
Cambridge  Examination  should  be  established,  we  shall  require 
the  active  sympathy  of  as  many  bishops  as  possible,  and  it  is, 
I  think,  through  this  work  of  preparation  for  Holy  Orders 
that  we  may  look  first  for  the  quickening  of  our  Faculty. 
The  Bishop's  letter  is  a  true  reflection  of  him.  What  could 


be  more  winning  ?     There  is  no  bishop  under  whom  I  could 
work  with  more  joy  and  trust,  and  if  I,  then  you  not  less. 

TRINITY  COLLEGE,  2ist  November  1871. 

One  line  only  to  wish  you  every  blessing  in  what  really  is 
a  very  important  work.  At  present  there  is  undoubtedly 
much  to  correct  and  develop,  but  at  least  there  is  the  vantage 
ground  for  effort,  and  Ely  probably  offers  more  advantages 
than  any  diocese.  You  will  enjoy  intensely  your  intercourse 
with  the  Bishop.  There  are  few  men  whose  presence  is 
more  beneficent. 

...  By  incredible  efforts  I  saved  my  train  by  about  a 
minute.  It  is  a  comfort  to  find  that  one  can  still  run  a 

In  the  following  year  he  made  great  progress,  and 
was  gladdened  by  the  receipt  of  a  document  which  practi 
cally  started  the  new  Examination  on  its  successful 
course.  The  document  runs  thus  : — 

We,  the  undersigned,  having  considered  carefully  the 
amended  form  of  "  Proposals  for  the  Establishment  of  a  New 
Theological  Examination,"  1  as  submitted  to  us  by  the  Regius 


OF  A 

Various  circumstances  combine  to  suggest  the  present  time  as  especially 
opportune  for  the  establishment  of  a  general  Theological  Examination, 
which  shall  be  conducted  by  the  Divinity  Professors  and  members  of  the 
Theological  Faculty  in  co-operation  with  the  Bishops. 

I.   Recent  changes  in  the  University  point  to  this  step. 

On  the  one  hand,  the  abolition  of  the  so-called  Voluntary  Theological 
Examination  has  cleared  the  way  for  a  more  efficient  scheme,  while  at  the 
same  time  it  has  rendered  some  substitute  desirable.  After  the  close  of 
the  year  1873,  when  the  "  Voluntary"  Theological  Examination  will  cease 
to  be  held,  the  University  will  offer  no  means  of  testing  the  Theological 
knowledge  of  those  students  who  have  proceeded  to  their  degrees  by  any 

38o          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT        CHAP. 

Professor  of  Divinity  of  Cambridge,  express  our  approval  of 
the  same,  and  our  willingness  to  take  part  in  the  scheme. 

W.  EBOR. 


E.  H.  ELY. 





yd  June  1872. 

other  line  than  by  the  Theological  Honours  Tripos  or  the  Special  Theo 
logical  Examination.  Yet  it  may  be  presumed  that  a  large  number  of 
these  will  still  continue  to  present  themselves  as  candidates  for  Holy 

On  the  other  hand,  the  fact  that  the  Act  for  the  abolition  of  Tests  has 
severed  many  of  the  formal  bonds  connecting  the  University  with  the 
Church  of  England,  renders  it  the  more  necessary  that  this  connexion 
should  be  maintained  as  far  as  possible  practically.  Through  the  Theo 
logical  Faculty,  which  remains  untouched  by  recent  legislation,  its  main 
tenance  is  still  possible ;  and  to  this  body  therefore  we  should  naturally 
look  to  take  its  part  in  the  general  control  of  the  proposed  Examination. 

II.  At   the  same  time,   dissatisfaction  has  been   expressed   by  many 
of  the  Bislwps  with  the  present  working  of  the  Examinations  for   Holy 
Orders  ;  and  it  is  thought  that  in  this  direction  an  improvement  might  be 
effected  by  the  proposed  scheme. 

In  the  first  place,  it  has  been  felt  as  a  serious  consequence  of  the 
existing  practice,  that  the  thoughts  of  Candidates  are  engrossed  up  to  the 
last  moment  with  the  anxieties  of  their  Examination,  so  that  they  have 
little  opportunity  for  quiet  thought  at  this  critical  time.  An  important 
point  would  be  gained  if  the  Bishops'  Examinations  could  be  relieved  of 
some  of  those  subjects  which  test  the  intellectual  qualifications  of  Candi 
dates  and  a  more  devotional  tone  given  to  the  period  immediately 
preceding  Ordination. 

Moreover,  the  establishment  of  a  general  Examination,  comprising 
Candidates  for  Ordination  in  different  dioceses,  would  tend  to  raise  the 
level  of  Theological  attainments  among  the  English  Clergy  generally,  and 
to  correct  these  inequalities  of  standard  which  arise  from  the  absence  of 
common  action. 

III.  Lastly,    the   scheme    may  be   expected   to    act    beneficially   on 
Theological  Colleges,     Representations  have  been  made  from  time  to  time 
by  those  interested  in  their  working,  in  the  hope  of  inducing  the  University 
to  establish   an    Examination   for   their  members.      They  have   felt   the 
importance  of  reference  to  some  external  standard,  such  as  the  proposed 
Examination  would  afford,  to  stimulate  and  direct  the  studies,  as  well  as  to 
test  the  proficiency,  of  their  students. 

By  opening  the  Examination,  under  certain  conditions,  to  students  of 
Theological  Colleges,  this  end  might  be  attained. 

The  Regulations  for  the  Examination  follow  hereupon. 



Encouraged  by  these  promises,  my  father  sought 
the  aid  of  the  Church  press  to  make  the  scheme  known, 
but  seems  to  have  met  with  scant  success.  He  wrote 
to  Hort  :— 

PETERBOROUGH,  ztfhjuly  1873. 

I  sent  the  papers  with  notes  to  The  Guardian  and  to  the 
John  Bull,  but,  as  far  as  I  know,  neither  paper  has  taken  the 
least  notice  of  the  proposed  Examination.  I  am  not  in  the 
secrets  of  journalism,  and  can  only  suppose  that  Cambridge 
is  in  bad  odour  with  ecclesiastical  journals.  I  do  not  see, 
however,  that  the  neglect  will  do  harm.  It  will  be  best  to 
get  the  scheme  inserted  in  the  Reporter  early  in  October,  and 
then  the  Cambridge  "  correspondent  "  of  the  papers  may 
think  it  worth  while  to  notice  it.  (Did  you  see  that  the 
Cambridge  correspondent  of  The  Guardian  said  that  Mr. 
Farrar  was  presented  for  his  degree  by  the  Public  Orator  in  a 
laudatory  Latin  speech  ?)  .  .  .  My  idea  as  to  Creeds  and 
Prayer  Book  was  that  we  should  deal  in  the  general  Examina 
tion  with  contents  and  history,  but  not  with  dogmatical 
developments.  For  the  common  Examination  of  all  candi 
dates  I  should  propose  :  —  i.  General  Scripture.  2.  Doctrine. 
3.  Evidences.  4.  Pastoral  care.  ...  Of  course  what  we 
shall  work  for  is  the  separation  of  the  Examination,  as  a  pass 
Examination,  from  the  Ember  week. 

The  success  of  the  scheme  was,  however,  fully 
assured  by  the  support  of  the  seven  Bishops.  The 
Oxford  Divinity  Professors  joined  heartily  in  the  work, 
and  year  by  year  other  bishops  consented  to  accept  the 
Examination,  until  at  last  it  won  practically  universal 

During  the  early  years  of  the  life  of  this  Examina 
tion,  my  father  conducted  all  the  correspondence,  and 
served  as  one  of  the  Examiners  on  every  occasion. 
When  the  new  work  was  fairly  started,  the  Rev.  E.  G. 
King  was  appointed  Secretary,  and  the  extreme  pressure 

382          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

removed    from    the    long-suffering    shoulders    of   the 

As  soon  as  the  Preliminary  Examination  had  been 
successfully  launched  upon  its  career  of  usefulness,  the 
Regius  Professor  devoted  his  energies  to  yet  another 
scheme  for  enabling  the  University  to  supply  men  duly 
qualified  to  serve  God  in  the  Church.  In  1881  he 
had  gathered  together  a  committee  of  which  he  was 
President,  formed  for  the  purpose  of  assisting  graduates, 
who  were  looking  forward  to  ordination,  to  prepare  for 
their  life's  work,  without  sacrificing  the  peculiar  advan 
tages  of  residence  in  the  University.  The  preparation 
provided,  fell  under  three  heads  :  Devotional,  Doctrinal, 
and  Practical.  One  feature  of  the  Devotional  prepara 
tion  was  an  additional  service  held,  latterly  at  any  rate, 
in  a  side  Chapel  (Brassey)  of  King's  College  Chapel,  at 
which  Devotional  Addresses  were  given.  From  time  to 
time  my  father  delivered  these  addresses.  In  the  matter 
of  the  Doctrinal  preparation,  various  courses  of  lectures 
were  provided,  the  President  himself  lecturing  on  Heads 
of  Christian  Doctrine.  All  members  of  the  Clergy 
Training  School,  as  it  was  called,  were  required  to 
engage  in  practical  work,  in  connexion  with  existing 
agencies  or  otherwise,  and  generally  in  concert  with 
the  vicars  of  parishes  in  Cambridge  or  the  neighbour 
hood.  After  working  quietly  and  successfully  for  seven 
years,  the  Committee  felt  justified  in  1887  in  putting 
forth  a  public  appeal  for  funds  to  provide  stipends, 
bursaries,  and  a  house  to  be  a  centre  for  the  work  of 
the  School.  About  the  same  time  the  School  adopted 
a  Constitution  which  provided  that  the  Divinity 
Professors,  the  Principal  and  Vice-Principal  of  the 
School,  and  the  Lecturers  should  form  the  Council. 
Thus  equipped  with  funds  and  a  local  habitation,  and 



adopted  by  the  Professors,  the  School  was  established 
on  a  secure  basis  for  the  permanent  benefit  of  the 
Church  at  large.1 

Professor  Stanton  continues  : — "  Dr.  Westcott  threw 
himself  most  cordially  into  the  work  of  various  religious 
societies  and  institutions  in  Cambridge,  especially  those 
which  were  mainly  carried  on  by  undergraduates  and 
young  graduates,  and  the  position  accorded  to  him  in 
connexion  with  them  was  a  means  of  influence  hardly 
less  important  than  the  manner  in  which  he  discharged 
his  strictly  professorial  duties.  The  first  time  that  I 
was  in  the  same  room  with  him  was  at  a  meeting  of 
Jesus  Lane  Sunday  School  teachers,  at  the  end  of 
which  he  gave  a  short  address,  when  he  cannot  have 
been  settled  in  Cambridge  for  more  than  a  few  weeks. 
Less  than  a  year  afterwards,  the  University  Church 
Society  was  formed,  with  the  object  of  promoting  a 
better  understanding  of  one  another,  and  fuller  co 
operation  among  young  Churchmen  of  various  shades 
of  opinion.  He  was  consulted  in  regard  to  the  scheme 
at  an  early  stage,  and  delivered  an  opening  address  at 
the  first  regular  meeting,  on  the  motto  which  he  gave 
us  ^vva6\ovvres,  while  Dr.  Lightfoot  preached  at  the 
Society's  first  terminal  service  on  the  words  Tldvra  vp&v. 
For  years  Dr.  Westcott  was  frequently  present  at  its 
meetings,  where  he  sat  listening  patiently  to  our  crude 

"Then  came  the  formation  of  the  Missionary  Brother 
hood  at  Delhi.  He  had  himself  had  the  principal 
share  in  giving  this  direction  to  the  missionary  zeal  of 
members  of  the  University,  and  his  own  large  views  of 

1  These  buildings  have  since  received  the  name  of  "  Westcott  House," 
in  order  "to  commemorate  the  close  connexion  between  Bishop  Westcott 
and  the  Clergy  Training  School,  and  to  record  the  honour  and  affection 
felt  for  him  by  all  associated  with  him  in  his  work  in  it." 

384          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

missionary  work,  and  of  the  responsibilities  of  the 
University  in  regard  to  it,  were  to  no  small  extent 
impressed  upon  this  mission,  and  have  determined  its 
aims  and  spirit.  In  other  ways,  too,  he  helped  the 
cause  of  foreign  missions,  as  (for  instance)  by  his 
speeches  at  meetings  of  the  S.P.G.  and  C.M.S.  Various 
associations  of  greater  or  less  permanency,  having 
religious  or  philanthropic  aims,  might  also  be  men 
tioned,  which  he  encouraged  by  his  sympathy  and  aid. 
When,  as  was  frequently  the  case,  he  was  in  the  chair 
at  meetings  either  of  a  public  or  a  comparatively 
private  character,  one  could  observe  him  making  brief 
notes  during  the  speeches.  At  the  conclusion  he 
summed  up,  showing  how  skilfully  he  had  analysed 
them  and  preserved  what  was  of  most  value  in  each, 
while  he  lifted  us  into  a  higher  level  of  thought  and 
feeling.  In  all  his  utterances  he  recurred  continually 
to  those  great  truths  which  were  '  the  master-light  of 
all  his  seeing.' " 

My  father  delivered  a  course  of  lectures,  on  Some 
Traits  in  the  Christian  Character^  at  the  Devotional 
Services  of  the  Church  Society  in  1876.  These 
addresses  were  subsequently  published,  under  the  title 
Steps  in  the  Christian  Life.  One  of  the  most  memor 
able  of  his  many  missionary  addresses  was  that  delivered 
in  1882,  in  the  College  Hall  at  Westminster,  on  The 
Cambridge  Mission  and  Higher  Education  in  the  Punjab. 

I  cannot  altogether  forego  mention  of  the  "Eranus" 
Club,  although  it  has  been  fully  described  elsewhere  by 
one  of  its  original  members,1  because  it  originated  with 
my  father.  The  following  letter  indicates  its  general 
intention  as  sketched  by  its  founder : — 

1  Professor  Henry  Sidgwick,  in  Life  and  Letters  of  Dr.  Hort,  ii.  184,  185. 


TRINITY  COLLEGE,  6th  May  1872. 

Dear  Sir — It  has  appeared  to  several  resident  members  of 
the  University,  who  are  actively  engaged  in  different  depart 
ments  of  academic  work,  that  it  would  be  a  great  advantage 
to  have  opportunities  of  meeting  to  consider  questions  of 
common  interest  in  the  light  of  their  special  studies.  It  is 
proposed,  therefore,  to  form  a  small  society  for  the  purpose  of 
hearing  and  discussing  essays  prepared  by  the  members.  If 
you  are  inclined  to  take  part  in  it,  may  I  ask  the  favour  of 
your  attendance  at  a  preliminary  meeting  to  be  held  in  my 
rooms  on  Friday,  lythMay,  at  8.30  P.M. — Yours  faithfully, 


The  "  Eranus  "  included  among  its  members  :  F.  J.  A. 
Hort,  Henry  Jackson,  J.  B.  Lightfoot,  Alfred  Marshall, 
J.  Clerk  Maxwell,  J.  R.  Seeley,  Henry  Sidgwick,  V.  H. 
Stanton,  G.  G.  Stokes,  and  Coutts  Trotter.  Any  one 
familiar  with  Cambridge,  or  the  world  of  learning,  will 
recognise  what  a  galaxy  of  talent  here  shines.  Though 
the  number  of  members  varied,  it  never  exceeded 
twelve.  One  of  the  earliest  papers  read  by  my  father 
before  this  club  was  on  Knowledge.  He  valued 
extremely  these  opportunities  of  open  converse  with 
other  leaders  of  thought  on  topics  of  supremest  interest, 
and,  when  he  says  in  his  preface  to  The  Gospel  of  Life, 
"  the  thoughts  which  they  (sc.  the  chapters)  contain 
have  been  constantly  tested  in  private  discussion,"  I 
understand  him  to  refer,  in  some  degree,  to  the  discus 
sions  of  this  club. 

Professor  Stanton  has  furnished  the  following 
amusing  little  incident  which  occurred  at  a  meeting  of 
the  "Eranus"  held  in  Professor  Robertson  Smith's 
rooms,  and  presents  an  interesting  view  of  my  father  as 
an  educationalist.  He  says,  "  We  were  discussing  our 
VOL.  I  2  C 

386          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

Cambridge  courses  of  study,  when  Dr.  Westcott  with 
the  utmost  gravity  remarked  :  '  I  would  give  a  man  a 
degree  for  asking  twelve  good  questions.'  Of  course 
he  did  not  seriously  regard  this  as  practicable.  Yet 
the  mock  proposal  meant  a  great  deal.  While  he  often 
shrank  from  formulas,  because  truth  seemed  to  him  too 
great  to  be  contained  in  them,  he  was  always  ready  to 
map  out  a  subject  with  care  and  precision,  so  as  to 
indicate  clearly  what  there  was  to  be  investigated  and 
thought  about,  and  he  looked  for  a  similar  temper  in 
other  genuine  students." 

When  Dr.  Lightfoot,  in  1875,  succeeded  to  the 
Lady  Margaret  Professorship,  an  anxious  discussion 
ensued  in  the  matter  of  the  Hulsean  chair  thus  vacated. 
At  first  it  was  hoped  that  the  problem  which  presented 
itself  to  the  three  Cambridge  friends  might  be  happily 
solved  by  Chancellor  Benson's  consenting  to  stand. 
When,  however,  Dr.  Benson  finally  decided  that  he 
should  devote  himself  wholly  to  his  work  at  Lincoln, 
Dr.  Hort  was,  after  full  consideration  of  the  attendant 
difficulties,  urged  by  the  other  two  to  offer  himself  as  a 
candidate.  His  somewhat  unwilling  candidature  on 
this  occasion  proved  unsuccessful  ;  but  three  years  later 
he  was  elected,  when  the  same  chair  again  fell  vacant, 
owing  to  Professor  J.  J.  S.  Perowne's  acceptance  of  the 
Deanery  of  Peterborough. 

The  following  fragments  are  selected  from  the 
letters  written  at  this  crisis  by  my  father  to  his  inti 
mate  friends  : — 


zqth  May  1875. 

Hort  is  naturally  very  anxious  to  know  what  it  is  right  to 
do  about  the  Hulsean.  Now  that  the  Lady  Margaret  is 



practically  decided  (Do  you  become  a  Johnian  ?),  we  must 
try  to  face  the  question.  I  hope  that  you  may  see  your  way. 
All  being  well,  I  come  up  on  Thursday  to  a  Harrow  meeting, 
and  if  you  are  free  I  will  come  on  to  St.  Paul's,  or  meet  you 
elsewhere  to  talk  over  the  matter.  I  feel  in  the  greatest 
perplexity,  and  could  of  course  say  nothing,  except  that  I 
would  take  counsel  with  you.  The  question  so  far  is  simply 
whether  we  think  (our  own  minds  not  being  further  made  up) 
that  it  would  be  better  for  Hort  to  come  forward  or  not.  He 
fully  feels  the  gravity  of  the  O.T.  argument. 


Wijunc  1875. 

Lightfoot  tells  me  that  he  has  written  to  you.  The  whole 
idea  seems  like  a  delightful  dream.  Yet  I  cannot  but  be 
glad  to  have  spoken,  even  if  I  was  selfishly  inclined  to  forget 
Lincoln  in  Cambridge.  So  far  you  will  forgive  me. 

To  DR.  HORT 

\2.thjune  1875. 

I  am  very  glad  that  you  have  written  to  Benson,  but  I 
hardly  think  that  he  will  stand,  and  it  is,  I  fear,  selfish  in  me 
to  wish  him  to  imperil  Lincoln.  Yet  when  once  I  was 
encouraged  I  could  not  but  feel  what  a  help  he  would  be 
to  us. 

In  the  building  of  the  new  Divinity  School,  towards 
which  Professor  Selwyn  had  munificently  contributed 
over  £10,000,  my  father  took  the  keenest  interest. 
The  School  was  opened  in  1879,  and  from  that  time 
the  Regius  Professor  occupied  a  room  within  its  walls. 
Here,  as  formerly  in  his  rooms  at  Trinity,  he  was  ready 
to  advise  those  who  sought  his  guidance,  and  many  are 
they  who  look  back  with  grateful  affection  to  quiet 
interviews  in  that  little  corner  room  which  have  left 

388          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

abiding  impressions  on  their  lives.  The  following  note 
addressed  to  his  brother  Professors  shows  how  carefully 
the  Regius  Professor  entered  into  the  details  of  the 
architectural  work  : — 

DIVINITY  SCHOOL,  $th  November. 

A  question  has  arisen  as  to  the  six  shields  on  the  entrance 
door  of  the  Divinity  School,  which  is  also  the  entrance  to  the 
Literary  Schools.  It  was  proposed  that  the  four  Divinity 
Professorships  should  be  represented  by  four  shields,  and  that 
two  should  be  kept  blank  for  the  future.  Mr.  Champneys  is 
anxious  to  fill  all  the  shields,  and  wishes  that  the  two  remain 
ing  shields  should  represent  Literary  Professorships.  Generally, 
this  seems  open  to  serious  objection ;  but  the  two  Professor 
ships  of  Hebrew  and  Greek  were  distinctly  theological  in  con 
ception,  and  perhaps  it  might  be  well  to  indicate  this  idea  by 
placing  their  bearings  on  our  entrance. 

When  Professor  Lightfoot  was,  in  1879,  appointed 
to  the  See  of  Durham,  the  general  loss  of  Cambridge 
was  a  very  special  loss  to  my  father.  From  the  time 
when  Dr.  Lightfoot  generously  prepared  the  way  for 
his  return  to  Cambridge,  he  had  cordially  supported 
him  throughout  in  every  effort  to  fulfil  his  office.  To 
lose  the  loyal  co-operation  of  such  a  worker  was  hard 
indeed ;  but  my  father  was  not  one  of  those  who 
"  thought  their  own  circle  greater  than  the  world," 
and  felt  that  his  friend  did  right  to  accept  the  new 
burden.  He  wrote  : — 

My  dear  Lightfoot — The  advice  from  Truro  does  not 
surprise  me.  On  the  whole,  I  think  that  it  is  right,  though 
no  one  can  feel  as  I  do  what  the  decision  means  to  us  here. 
But  England  is  more  than  Cambridge.  You  may  find  new 
ways  for  helping  us,  and  I  will  try  to  regain  the  hope  which 
has  almost  gone.  We  must  have  faith.  It  is  just  that  that 
we  are  always  wanting.  We  wish  to  carry  out  our  own  plans. 

viii  CAMBRIDGE  389 

For  your  work  I  have  no  fear.     You  give  all  your  past,  your 
self,  to  it ;  and  giving  is  the  secret  of  true  success. 

I  must  be  very  thankful  for  the  work  which  we  have 
been  allowed  to  do  together.  It  seems  to  have  borne  fruit 
beyond  one's  utmost  expectation — lav  p)  6  KOKKOS  TOV  a-irov 
Trecrwf  ets  TTJV  ytjv  aTroOavy  avros  /zoVos  /zevei,  edv  Se  aTroOavy 
iroXvv  Kapirov  <^€yoet.  .  .  -1 

There  are  many  deaths  and  risings  again.  Is  it  not 
written  over  all  "  from  strength  to  strength  "  ? — Ever  yours, 

B.  F.  W. 

These  last  words,  it  will  be  remembered,  were  the 
text  of  my  father's  sermon  at  Bishop  Lightfoot's  con 
secration.  In  the  course  of  that  sermon  he  says  :  "  I  do 
not  fear  that  I  shall  be  misunderstood  if  I  say  that 
our  ancient  Universities  supply  with  singular  fulness 
the  discipline  which  may  train  the  spiritual  counsellor. 
Nowhere  else,  I  believe,  is  a  generous  sympathy  with 
every  form  of  thought  and  study  more  natural  or  more 
effective  ;  nowhere  else  is  it  equally  easy  to  gauge  the 
rising  tide  of  opinion  and  feeling  which  will  prevail 
after  us  ;  nowhere  else  is  there  in  equal  measure  that 
loyal  enthusiasm  which  brings  the  highest  triumphs  of 
faith  within  the  reach  of  labour.  He  who  has  striven 
there  towards  the  ideal  of  student  and  teacher  will 
have  gained  powers  fitted  for  a  larger  use.  He  who 
lived  in  communion  with  the  greatest  minds  of  all 
ages  will  not  be  hasty  to  make  his  own  thoughts  the 
measure  of  truth." 

In  May  1870  my  father  was  invited  to  take  part 
in  the  Revision  of  the  New  Testament  as  a  member 
of  the  Company  appointed  by  Convocation.  His  own 
view  at  the  time  was  that  the  text  of  the  New  Testa- 

1  Except  the  grain  of  wheat  fall  into  the  earth  and  die,  it  abideth  by 
itself  alone  ;  but  if  it  die,  it  beareth  much  fruit.— St.  John  xii.  24. 

390          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

ment  needed  to  be  more  accurately  determined  before 
an  improved  translation  could  be  profitably  under 
taken.  After  consulting,  however,  with  his  friends,  Drs. 
Lightfoot  and  Hort,  who  had  also  been  asked  to  assist 
in  the  work,  he  felt  that  he  ought  to  accept  the  duty, 
and  hoped  that  it  might  come  to  a  successful  issue. 
The  following  two  letters  to  the  other  two  members  of 
the  Cambridge  "  trio  "  show  part  of  what  he  felt : — 

To  THE  REV.  F.  J.  A.  HORT 

PETERBOROUGH,  ztyh  May  1870. 

My  dear  Hort — Your  note  came  with  one  from  Ellicott 
this  morning,  and  you  have  doubtless  heard  by  the  same 
post.  On  the  face  of  the  scheme  there  is  as  much  fairness 
as  one  could  hope,  far  more  than  one  could  have  expected ; 
and  though  I  think  that  Convocation  is  not  competent  to 
initiate  such  a  measure,  yet  I  feel  that  as  "we  three"  are 
together  it  would  be  wrong  not  to  "  make  the  best  of  it "  as 
Lightfoot  says.  Indeed,  there  is  a  very  fair  prospect  of  good 
work,  though  neither  with  this  body  nor  with  any  body  likely 
to  be  formed  now  could  a  complete  textual  revision  be 
possible.  There  is  some  hope  that  alternative  readings 
might  find  a  place  in  the  margin.  But  this  is  one  of  the 
details  on  which  it  will  be  necessary  for  us  to  confer  before 
the  first  meeting. 

I  am  obliged  to  write  hastily,  but,  though  I  dislike  the 
scheme,  I  seem  to  be  quite  clear  that  we  should  embrace  the 
opportunity  and  do  our  best.  Even  if  we  fail  greatly  we 
shall  not  fail  from  unwillingness  to  co-operate  with  others ; 
and  an  invitation  to  share  in  such  a  work  ought  not  to  be 
lightly  cast  aside.  Will  you  write  at  once  to  me  one  line. 
The  answer  ought  not  to  be  delayed  beyond  Tuesday. 

How  rapidly  things  move  now.  This  scheme  seems  like  a 
dream. — Ever  yours  affectionately,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 



PETERBOROUGH,  tfhjune  1870. 

My  dear  Lightfoot — Ought  we  not  to  have  a  conference 
before  the  first  meeting  for  Revision?  There  are  many 
points  on  which  it  is  important  that  we  should  be  agreed. 
The  rules  though  liberal  are  vague,  and  the  interpretation  of 
them  will  depend  upon  decided  action  at  first.  I  am  a 
fixture,  having  been  absent  too  much  already,  but  Hort  is 
ready  to  come  here  on  any  day,  and  the  trains  are  convenient. 
Can  you  then  fix  some  time  when  you  also  could  spare  a  few 
hours — we  shall  hardly  want  more — for  a  conference  ?  .  .  .  . 

There  really  seems  hope  for  the  N.T.  at  least. — Ever 
yours,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 

My  father  suggested  to  the  Dean  of  Westminster 
that  there  should  be  a  celebration  of  the  Holy  Com 
munion  before  the  first  meeting  of  the  New  Testament 
Revision  Company.  Dean  Stanley  gladly  accepted 
the  suggestion.  The  following  extracts  from  letters 
written  by  my  father  to  Professor  Lightfoot  clearly 
indicate  his  share  in  this  much  -  controverted  pro 
ceeding  : — 

PETERBOROUGH,  \othjunc  1870. 

...  I  want  some  celebration  of  Holy  Communion 
before  our  first  Revision  meeting.  I  have  ventured  to  write 
to  the  Dean  of  Westminster.  Could  you  not  support  me  ? 
We  who  are  members  of  the  Church  of  England  could  rightly 
show  and  confirm  our  fellowship. 

PETERBOROUGH,  I'jthjune  1870. 

.  .  .  Stanley  heartily  accepts  the  proposal  of  Holy  Com 
munion  if  the  notice  is  sent  to  all.  To  this  I  see  no  objec 
tion.  He  will  celebrate,  and  with  him  all  the  responsibility 
rests.  We  at  least  (and,  I  think,  Scotch  Presbyterians)  can 
have  no  scruple  in  availing  ourselves  of  the  offered  service. 
You  think  so,  I  hope. — Ever  yours,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 

392          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

I  do  not  suppose  that  my  father  had  contemplated 
that  one  who  could  not  join  in  the  Nicene  Creed 
would  desire  to  communicate.  A  Unitarian  member 
of  the  Company  did  however  communicate,  and  the 
Church  newspapers  began  to  enlarge  upon  the 
"  scandal,"  the  "  blasphemy,"  and  the  "  horrible  sacri 
lege."  The  storm  that  ensued  was  so  violent  that  the 
Revision  was  almost  wrecked  at  the  very  outset.  This 
unhappy  controversy  is  fortunately  by  this  time  ancient 
history  and  may  well  be  forgotten,  but  for  the  proper 
understanding  of  the  following  letters  it  is  necessary  to 
remark  that  the  Upper  House  of  Convocation,  having 
originally  accepted  the  explanations  of  the  Bishops 
present  at  the  service,  later,  moved  apparently  by 
popular  feeling,  resolved  : — 

That  it  is  the  judgment  of  this  House  that  no  person  who 
denies  the  Godhead  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  ought  to  be 
invited  to  join  either  Company  to  which  is  committed  the 
revision  of  the  Authorised  Version  of  Holy  Scripture,  and 
that  any  such  person  now  on  either  Company  should  cease 
to  act  therewith. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  Lower  House  of  Convocation, 
after  a  very  stormy  debate,  resolved  by  a  bare  majority 
of  three  to  express  its  "  deep  regret "  and  close  the  in 
cident.1  What  my  father  thought  of  these  proceedings 
generally,  and  of  the  vacillating  conduct  of  the  Bishops 
in  particular,  will  be  abundantly  clear  from  the  following 
letters  :— 

To  THE  REV.  F.  J.  A.   HORT 

PETERBOROUGH,  isf  July  1870. 

.  .  .  The  Revision  on  the  whole  surprised  me  by  prospects 
of  hope.     I  suggested  to  Ellicott  a  plan  of  tabulating  and 
1  See  Life  of  Archbishop  Tail,  ii.  63-74. 




circulating  emendations  before  our  meeting,  which  may  in 
the  end  prove  valuable.  Though  the  time  spent  last  meet 
ing  was,  I  think,  thoroughly  well  spent,  we  cannot  afford 
an  equal  expenditure  in  future ;  and  the  points  which  were 
most  discussed  were  in  several  cases  obviously  out  of  the 

I  hardly  feel  with  you  on  the  question  of  discussing  any 
thing  doctrinally  or  on  doctrine.  This  seems  to  me  to  be 
wholly  out  of  our  province.  We  have  only  to  determine 
what  is  written  and  how  it  can  be  rendered.  Theologians 
may  deal  with  the  text  and  version  afterwards.  The  render 
ing  of  irvevpa  ayiov  by  "  the  Holy  Ghost "  is  not  satisfactory, 
but  no  other  rendering  seems  to  me  to  be  more  satisfactory ; 
and  to  propose  to  reject  it  on  "historical,"  i.e.  "theological," 
grounds  (as  explained)  seems  to  me  to  be  a  desertion  of  our 
ground.  I  cannot  see  how  the  theological  and  critico- 
grammatical  functions  can  be  confused  without  serious  in 
jury.  Perhaps  we  agree  in  spirit  but  express  ourselves 
differently.  At  least  we  agree  in  hope.  I  am  called  away. 
— Ever  yours  affectionately,  B.  F.  WESTCOTT. 

PETERBOROUGH,  *]thjuly  1870. 

My  dear  Hort — Practically  I  think  that  we  are  quite 
agreed.  It  is  only  when  a  principle  is  represented  in  an 
abstract  form  that  our  differences  of  point  of  view  must 
appear.  In  the  application  to  the  special  detail  we  were 
quite  agreed.  .  .  .  The  next  meeting,  like  a  schoolboy's 
second  term,  will  probably  be  more  important  than  the  last. 
The  Bishop  of  Gloucester  seems  to  me  to  be  quite  capable 
of  accepting  heartily  and  adopting  personally  a  thorough 
scheme.  Evidently  he  is  anxious  for  success,  and  his  vigor 
ous  defence  of  the  Communion  shows  how  fully  he  is  pre 
pared  to  justify  an  accomplished  fact.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  Bishop  of  -  -  will,  or  may  be,  formidable.  He  has 
no  instincts  of  scholarship  to  keep  alive  his  better  self. 
However,  I  am  sanguine,  as  I  am  of  the  English  Church. 
I  don't  think  that  that  wonderful  Communion  will  be  lost. 

394          LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WESTCOTT         CHAP. 

TRINITY  COLLEGE,  i6t/i  February  1871. 

My  dear  Hort — Do  you  really  do  justice  to  the  gravity  of 
the  situation  ?  The  Bishops  have  shamelessly  broken  a 
contract,  and  asserted  a  right  to  recall  and  retract  their 
pledged  word  in  the  matter  of  revision.  It  amazes  me  that 
this  very  simple  view  of  the  case  was  not  present  to  their 
minds.  It  is  ridiculous  now  to  discuss  the  terms  of  an 
agreement  which  has  been  made.  The  time  for  that  has  gone 
by.  There  was  very  much  in  the  original  scheme  which  I 
disliked,  but  I  accepted  the  charge  offered  to  me  as  a  whole, 
and  I  cannot  now  submit  to  see  the  conditions  altered  on  an 
essential  point.  Nothing  remains  but  to  assert  our  complete 
independence  of  Convocation.  I  wrote  to  this  effect  to  the 
Prolocutor  and  to  Stanley  yesterday.  Lightfoot  is  of  exactly 
the  same  mind,  and  will  see  Stanley,  if  he  can,  to-day.  I  do 
not  think  that  I  ever  was  more  grieved  and  amazed.  I  had 
thought  over  every  kind  of  treacherous  manoeuvre,  but 
repudiation  had  not  occurred  to  me.  Can  it  really  be  that 
principles  of  honour  die  out  in  Churchmen  ?  It  is  a  terrible 
spectacle  for  our  enemies.  However,  we  must  assert  our 
freedom.  I  do  not